Unhallowed
by Aesphyxiate
Summary: Genevieve is half-breed: daughter of the Dark Lord and a vampire she never met. She is desperate to stay in control of her thirst and cold demeanor, but is invited to Hogwarts. What happens when she meets Harry and lets her guard down?
1. 1: Reunion R1

Unhallowed

Part 1

There I was…again….laying up awake…like always. Sleep eluded me. Some would call it a perk, but when you lived in a world that slept for a quarter of the day, not sleeping called on me to think of creative ways to stay entertained. A small burning played at the back of my throat to the same beat as the piano sonata that thrummed in my ears. The music emanated from across the room while I lay awake on my bed, arms behind my head, staring at the ceiling. Earlier I had been writing, but the thoughts began to slow more slowly, and the viscous flow seized up to what became writers block. I gave up staring at my computer a few hours ago. This gave me time to contemplate what I was going to do for the night. I entertained each idea briefly: attempt to continue writing, pick up a book, go out for a coffee, go to a club, go hunting. Each image flickered momentarily before I dismissed with a sigh. I was several things. _Frustrated, first of all_.

When you never have to sleep you take pains to stay entertained. I danced, I read, I wrote, I attempted to study several muggle endeavors such as mathematics. Chemistry and physics were fundamentally interesting, though abnormally challenging. So I relaxed into write. I wrote about my experience as a half-breed. About being an outcast. About fictional character experiencing some symbolic depravity in which I found myself. I wrote on the importance of muggle ideas in the magical world. Trying to explain the importance of concepts of mathematics, physics, geology, chemistry, etc to an audience that could operate effectively without knowing such things. It was difficult to not attract attention when publishing so many books, but a pen name kept my secret safe. Isis Lovecraft. It had a ring to it. Writing books had perks as well as disadvantages. The greatest perk was probably that I came across so much interesting source material. In the wizarding world, nothing ceases to amaze. History, rebellions, charms, transfiguration, potions…half-breeds. I enjoyed studying that, which may appear as narcissism. Studying oneself always seems to bring about that kind of response. The last book I published on the subject of half-breeds, however, dealt primarily with ethical considerations. _Narcissism being boundless—being mine, it would have to be_. I chuckled to myself. I considered myself a bit longer, and though there may peculiar, even amazing things about myself—I do not have myself to thank. I am a result of my parents.

We cannot choose our parents, or there is no way I would be here, awake… at 2 am…alone. We cannot choose our origins, but we always have a choice of our actions. Some people feel that parents, friends, or social position make choices for us. They don't. They can make decisions hard, and they can make the correct decisions painful, even lethal- but they have no power to choose. Only I do. I have the power to take my parents and my past and my darkness and not let it rule my life.

But why did I have this damn burning in the back of my throat. I didn't choose for it, but I could choose how to deal with it.

It was dark outside, and I was thirsty. My eyes focused on the miniscule spots on the barely lit ceiling and my ears became consumed with the music filling the room.

I gave in. I would go out to dance tonight. Isolation here in this small apartment in Barcelona wasn't the best, but at least I was away from the past…mostly. I had moved here five years ago, when I was 10—or rather I ran. I disappeared. I had heard tight lipped rumors that my father was finding his way back into the world; facts which made my decision to leave all the more easy. I had never met my father…or my mother. They had died, though in different ways. My father had sealed his own fate with death when he all too enthusiastically hunted down the Potter family. My mother died in a witch hunt—well not because she was a witch, but because she was a vampire. It was a witch hunt in the wizarding world. I never met her, and I was left to grow up with various pure-blood wizarding families. I had been raised around horrible thoughts and despicable actions—but although I was witness to it, I wouldn't let it rule me. I would choose.

Laying down for some long was growing tiresome, so I settled on choosing to go out to the nearby club. I dressed in black flats, black wash jeans with silver threading, and black peasant top that came off the shoulders. With my hair half-hazardly pinned into a bun and a dusting of makeup and a light jacket as I walked to my favorite dance club. Though younger, I looked older. I felt older too, but my condition ensured that I looked as old or young as need be.

Walking down the street that evening was warm. It tended to warm in Barcelona, and if I wasn't so hesitant about trying to move again, I would probably try to leave. I missed the stormy weather of Britain and the chilly rain it brought. After walking a few blocks I slipped into the club my senses were overcome with a plethora of sensations: the delicious warmth given off by everyone around me, the mixed tang of alcohol and too much cologne, and the comforting wash of pounding music. I always found music comforting. I allowed me to escape the present when my thirst was too overwhelming. It allowed me to be close to people, but to escape to my happy zone.

Not everyone was equally appealing, just as not all regular food was equally appealing. The allure of different blood's scents depended on a person's essence. Some essence was quite nice, almost comforting, other completely repulsive. Being around pure-blood wizards I never battled my thirst too much because all of them repulsed me greatly: as if they rotted at the core and that putrid ichor leaked into their blood.

I began to let my senses take over, and my instincts to kick in. It was dangerous with the burning in the back of my throat. _But I have the choice_ I silently reminded myself. I slowly made my way to the center of the large crowd and began to let my body move to the beat. I used to be so nervous, but then I remembered that so is everyone. Everyone is just as self-conscious and self-aware as I am. _Although you're the only one looking for dinner…shut it…_They are all just as worried- we're just worried for different reasons. I focused on the heavy pulse of the music. I only concerned myself with the feeling of the music beat through me and the warm bodies rub up against me. I moved slowly through the crowd as I danced. I was drawn to some, and repulsed by others. Generally at places like this, however, I ended up with a general sense of disgust in the pit of my stomach which helped tie up the beast that lurked menacingly under my skin. The beast that made my teeth ache and my throat burn. The same putrid essence that repulsed me, lurked somewhere deep within me. I tried so hard to keep it boxed up, tied up, sealed tightly away. The thought of that darch ichor flowing freely through my essence turned my stomach, so I refocused on the music that poured over me in the dim lighting.

Strategically placed between two very handsome guys I let my eyes bore into theirs as I continued to dance. I focused on their fragrance, their pulse, their movement, their hungry eyes as they raked over my body slowly. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed as I danced closer to one of them. Even with the physical closeness and the music to help loosen me I still felt numbness: a cold that overwhelmed and numbed my senses. My emotions had always been so intense: happiness, sadness, anger. It was like a roller coaster, except even at its highest point, it was an uncomfortable ride. I struggled for so long to try and deal with those overwhelming emotions. Slowly I realized that numbness helped ease the discomfort they brought. Now most of my emotion was locked away in box…the same box as that dark putrescent ichor. I closed my eyes and tried to let the music take me. Partly because it helped me feel alive, and partly because I hated feeling dead. _You are dead_. The thought flickered. _No…only half….and it doesn't have to consume me. _It didn't have to consume me—but half dead felt more comfortable than uncontrollably alive.

I tried not to focus on any one person for too long, and to just dance and excite that spark of humanity I know that was buried somewhere beneath me. This went on for what seemed like several songs, and in the end I did manage to become consumed enough to forget that burning in the back of my throat and the warmth radiating from the room that promised relief.

It was getting late. _Or early_._ Not that it makes much difference since I'm not gonna sleep_. People had been slowly existing and entering the club all night. Those that exited though, were not replaced with more dancers, they were replaced with people that sat nonchalantly at tables and the bar: dispersed throughout the room. That's when he stepped through the doors and I immediately choked and noticed him. Throughout the wee hours of the morning more than an average number of adults had been taking up residence in the club. No one I had ever seen before, but none of them danced. They all sat at tables, at the bar, and talked amongst themselves or not at all. But then he entered. And the whole night made sense.

In that instant I did not know whether to panic and dissaparate, or to wait and hear him out. I hadn't seen him in five years, but he hadn't changed a bit. He stepped into the club in muggle clothes, dark as his look, and his lank black hair delicately falling over his waxy sullen complexion.

Severus.

Severus whose intentions I was never sure of, though none of them, I suspect, good. He seemed far more empathetic than he let on, though I tried to hide my ability to read people, as it was a trait my father always exploited in his own "work". Anything that made me different from a regular witch I always tried to cover up, but the talent came so naturally it was difficult. The most difficult to resist was tearing through people's mind to find information I needed, or to influence them to do what I wanted. It sickened me more than a little to think about it. To tear a sentient being's free will away like that, and it was a talent that I needn't practice to know I possessed. It always lurked their tempting me, but after my first encounter with it—I was always reminded to be disgusted enough to not be tempted.

_My father, _I realized. He was the reason I left…but was he the reason I would return? Severus worked for my father. Was unquestionably loyal to him—so much so that even my father's other followers were disturbed by it…or jealous. I panicked. _This must be why he's here. He's found me. He's going to take me back to my father_.

Fear paralyzed me. Fear paralyzing me was generally welcome when it was fear that I lost control of my hunger, but this fear was not welcome. _Don't think about him now. You left him…you're stronger than him. Better than him. He does not define you, you do. _

But no matter how many times I repeated the words in my head I did not believe them. If I was easy to cry, tears would swell in my eyes, but I was not, and my face would remain impassive.

Then Severus stood before me as I continued to dance, acting as nonchalantly as possible.

"Hello Genevieve," he drawled out quietly. I dared to meet his dark eyes that were slightly hidden beneath is equally dark eyes.

_Severus. Do you mind if we speak like this? _I silently inquired.

_If you'll keep the prying aside, then I suppose it is a start. _He acquiesced. _I believe you know that this day has been inevitable. Its time._

Panicked beneath my calm façade I continued, _Time for what, exactly? _I was contemplating dissaperating to my apartment- to pack- to leave- to keep hiding. But I was all too aware of the 12-15 other bodies that must have the wands anxiously hidden. I continued to dance.

_To stop hiding, Genevieve. You have…..won the trust of a few notable wizards. They would like to….hmm…they would like offer you an education… and a future. _His thoughts were broken and it took much will power not to pry further. I had my father's knack for mind reading…and manipulation- but if I had won the trust of some miscellaneous wizards, why abused this unknown trust? _Take my hand and we'll dissaperate._

_Let me think_. I quickly responded. Severus's awkward stance had attracted the attention of a few sleep deprived dancers. I made my way away from him as I continued to dance and lazily sweep my eyes around the room. 13. A hunting party. Thirteen always came to hunt. And I was the prey. Perhaps only if I disobeyed. Severus had never directly hurt me, but his form of authority and discipline was always subversive.

After an entire song wrapped in thought and music and warmth, and entire song of weighing the costs and benefits of the perhaps trust of perhaps notable wizards I returned to Severus. He held out his hand lightly, palm up.

_And what is our destination_? I enquired coldly and hesitantly. He gave no response. He simply continued to hold out his hand. His eyes bore into mine as I fought the urge to delve deeper into his conscious and find what I desired: the truth.

I let myself be taken with the idea of promise, of hope. _Of being appreciated instead of despised. Perhaps my control of bloodlust. Perhaps my writing. Perhaps my father… or my mother._

No matter what crossed my mind I could not figure what would redeem me, and so I resolved myself to this not working out as well as Severus proffered. We walked outside where to where there were no onlookers.

I stretched out my hand and gingerly touched his. Then the pull violent pull at my belly button began and we dissaparated.


	2. 2 : Trusting

Unhallowed

Part 2

That was never a pleasant experience. The horrible pulling distorting feeling started to subside as we apparated in my small apartment. I was somewhat shocked. My apartment was a studio style flat decorated in colors ranging from a deep purple to red to black to grey. I found them soothing. Most vampires found red hues soothing however. It helped to simultaneously remind you of the hunger, and to feed it at the same time. My eyes stayed glued to the crimson wall until I head a series of loud distinct pops. As I wheeled around I was meant with reserved stares from thirteen other witches and wizards, wands aloft.

None of them I recognized. One seemed rather tired looking, bags under his eyes and muted brown hair astray. One witch had exuberantly pink hair, although her eyes were also adorned with dark circles. A middle aged ginger man stood next to her, he also seemed tired; they all seemed tired. I turned away and sat cross legged on my bed and looked towards Severus.

"So…what exactly are we doing here?" I enquired. He remained still but responded.

"How would you respond if we were here to finish this life of yours?" He questioned coldly.

_Glad_. I darkly mused.

"What are we doing here?" I repeated?

"What do you want after this life?" he asked. _What a nonsensical line of questioning. There were much less theatric ways to ask about dying. I was already half dead after all. _

"Oblivion," I deadpanned. "Nothingness. No worry, no happiness, no fear, no hunger, no fulfillment. Just emptiness. Just peace. Just lack of sentience and lack of being. Empty and completed at the same time." _And I feel like I'm halfway there. _

"I believe you misunderstand. When you leave here tonight, what do you want to find? What do you want to leave behind?" I felt myself getting frustrated at this line of questioning. Maybe because it was so personal, or because I didn't know the reasons for the questions. The confusion and invasion of privacy was starting to grate on my nerves.

"Not a damn thing," I continued. _Too personal, too personal, too personal_… As I continued to think that I became gradually more irritated. Though vampires tended towards numbness it was only to stave off overwhelming emotions and instincts: and my instincts were telling me to shut up and leave. To run. To get away.

Fighting this urge was causing me to become increasingly aware of my surroundings and annoyed by Severus. "I don't want to find anything and I don't want to leave anything." It was becoming difficult to edge the growl out of my voice.

Severus glanced around the room at the others and at my things. "If we are to move, would you want to bring these…." He swept his hand around the room, "things?" a note of distaste in his voice.

My room was odd. Filled with both muggle and magical books. Adorned with posters and books from both worlds. Quidditch, music, games. I owned a small television and several game systems; also a laptop, several mp3 players, and a new touch screen computer. Muggles were fascinating indeed. They possessed their own magic- the magic of intellect and the ability to evolve to new ideas. However, if I were to be returning to the magical world I remembered these items would not only be unnecessary, they would cause me unnecessary strife.

I slowly shook my head.

"I would however, endeavor to keep my wand, trunk, and blankets," I added slowly. Blankets I had made myself with gorgeous exotic yarns in the small hours of the morning when sleep would never come. The wand was something obvious to keep, though I kept it in a slender redwood case lined with a deep purple crush velvet. The trunk was enchanted to hold a virtually endless volume of things while remaining weightless… _Oh magic, how does one manage without thee. It would be like not having indoor plumbing._

Severus nodded. "Well then, let us begin." I stood, and in a flurry the few items truly important to me swirled and fell gracefully into my trunk. As a few of the wizards twirled their wands and muttered a few incantations the items eased themselves around the room with little resistance. In a few short moments the room seemed barren, even thought it was still adorned with so many of my possessions- but all that mattered, was now tucked into my trunk.

Severus and I stared at each other impassively. The grating irritation had subsided as I was filled with a cold nostalgia. It was weak and very cold. I would not miss Barcelona, but I would miss a world that only I lived in.

For the last three years I had resided in Barcelona, only I existed to myself. I had managed to find the underground wizarding community nearby, and learned enough Spanish to get by. The community was filled with colorful shops and eccentric baubles. Though I ran away, I did have a generous amount of Galleons to my name, though generous was perhaps an understatement. I had more than enough Galleons to last a lifetime or two- which, considering I aged reasonably slower than most wizards, was necessary. Traditional work would be impossible. No one would hire a halfbreed such as myself. Vampires were despised more than werewolves. In fact, though many witches and wizards may have some encounter with a werewolf during their lifetime, it was rare that they ever encounter a vampire, for two reasons: Vampires are very solitary greedy creatures and secondly, because vampires thirst for blood. Though it seems the second is more of a reason for people to stay away, the first is more likely the reason. Those who meet vampires are usually drained or torn apart in a few seconds as sacrifice to an insatiable hunger.

As a half-breed I could more easily control my thirst. It is sometimes difficult to contribute character to traits to either parent. Bloodlust: probably mother. Slow to age: probably mother. Medium physical strength: probably father. Lightning reflexes and high agility: probably mother. Numbness: probably both. A love for humanity that outweighed myself: who the hell knows. _Always a caveat_.

"Are you ready to get to our destination?" Severus inquired?

"Am I going to be the target of idle wands all morning?" I responded.

"Until we arrive," he conceded and again proffered his hand. I glanced around my room and squelched the small knot of cold nostalgia threatening to form. I closed my eyes for a moment and it dissipated- numbness returned. I let out a small breath and again placed my hand on his. He waited a moment this time. Nodded to me, a small smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. "You are going to meet a lot of new people today. Some will be familiar to you, others will not. But they will all know you, be certain."

I allowed indifference to consume me as I bore my eyes into his. Allowed a small nod and with that the sickening pull began again.


	3. 3: The Trusted Wizard

Unhallowed

Part 3

Sickeningly we were jolted back to reality to appropriately be greeted by pouring rain. _Oh wondrous England_. I did not mind the perpetual overcast weather, or the lush greenery brought on by the constant showers, but I did mind the humidity. It wasn't unbearable, but my long satiny brown hair did not appreciate it.

The night was starting to dissipate, though not very visibly through the heavy clouds and city lights. We stood affront two muggle houses numbered 11 and 13. The buildings were in subtle disrepair, but nothing too major. Severus took a step away from me to go have a chat with one of the other wizards.

I sloshed my feet around the soaked roads and peered up at the sky. This time of day was relaxing. The cold chill of the water as it washed over me helped to put me at ease. The cold droplets of water were glorious so long as they remained unaccompanied by wind. I could hear the muted sounds of alarms and the low rumbling of trolleys in the city. I watched the light as it glinted off the droplets of water and truly appreciated to be away from Spain. I never did prefer sunlight. On occasion, like a cool Spring evening or Autumn morning it was bearable, but I preferred the diffused light offered by a well overcast sky.

"When was the last time you ate?" Severus' voice drawled.

"Yesterday," I absently responded. _Mmmm…_ but I was again interrupted.

"More specifically, when was the last time you _drank_?" He finished pointedly. How subtle. I had to think. I usually managed across blood about once a week, but I hadn't been to a supply shop in two weeks.

"Nine days," I quietly responded, trying to maintain the peace of the moment, but the small voice in my head couldn't keep quiet, _3 days longer than usual_. And those two days make the difference…

"What's the longest you've gone?" he asked. _Again with the questions_… I couldn't hold onto the peace for very long. I felt the irritation edging in. Why were my states numb, content, and irritated? _Because you replace all the other states with numb to stay in control…..touché' good lady, touché'. _

With an itching annoyance I jerked my head away from the sky towards him. _If looks could kill…I suppose it is better they can't._

"Three weeks," I answered. Barely. That was the most unpleasant three weeks of my life. After about twelve days the hunger bleeds into every facet of your thoughts and your senses. After about eighteen days instincts override almost all conscious thought. That small ounce of yourself that is locked in a small box is all you have to remind yourself that you still exist. It was enough to get myself locked in a room and curled in a ball and…

I realized the silence of my surroundings as I heard a soft pop of the air and distinct sloshing of water. I reflexively turned towards the sound. So far everyone I had encountered this evening were dressed in muggle attire as to not attract attention at the club. _Like disapparating wouldn't_. I could tell, however, that the heavily outlined figure was wearing robes, both from the silhouette and from the sound of the hem dragging through the water as the individual approached.

After an agonizing few seconds, breath caught in my throat. Panic and calm struck me simultaneously fear and calm washed over me. _Trust…I won the trust of…_the words started out weak in my head and faded to nothing. I couldn't think. Was this happening? They said education, but…him? I shuddered. _It is him. It is him. It is him… _pounded in my head, but I wasn't feeling exasperated, I was feeling faint.

Then standing a few feet away from me was the ancient seeming wizard who was adorned in a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles. A small smile played on his lips as he gazed at me apparently bemused.

A small feeling turned in my stomach, and at first I could not recognize what the feeling was. It just burrowed itself further and further into my stomach and turned and turned. It made me feel slightly ill, though mostly because I could not recognize it.

The wizard stopped only a foot away from myself and he proffered his hand. With my stomach already in the process of continuous turn over, I don't think I would be able to stomach anymore pressure from the most uncomfortable transport imaginable. _That's what it gets for being efficient…ha yeah, not for my lunch._

I smirked slightly bemused.

"I think I'll pass," I finally coaxed out. Albus Dumbledore simply continued to look bemused with his hand held out before him.

"Don't worry," he started. My stomach continued its mad upheaval. _Don't worry_. So calming….that's when I realized the feeling. "We won't be going anywhere, I simply need to show you something."

Distractedly I respond, "I can see your hand quite clearly, and I will accept its existence without having to touch it." Dumbledore chuckled. That cemented the feeling. As I identified the churning, it started to cease. _Hope. _The small voice in my head offered. Hope of…something….my mind began to madly race to find out hope of what, but it would require more than a few desperate moments of thought. It would require reflection.

"I am quite astonished at your calm demeanor and subversive humor, though I can assure you that I do not doubt your powers of observation," his eyes twinkled. They made me feel peace. "I need you to take my hand."

If this was the wizard whose trust I had won, how could I not trust him in return? I glanced at him apprehensively and then rested my gaze on the sky again. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed as I held my hand out towards his. As my palm came to rest on his, I sensed no change. However, after a few seconds loud screeching began and my eyes flew open. Dumbledore still looked towards me bemused, but my attention was drawn to the building inching themselves away from each other and a third, more dilapidated building emerging from betwixt them. _A Fidelius charm._ I was in varying states of awe as my mind raced. My brain wanted to explode. I wanted to be able to freeze and separate the moments as the thoughts raced.

_Dumbledore…he's the secret keeper. Of what? Of this building? What is this place? Its number 12. I've heard of this. It was a pureblood house. It didn't used to be hidden. It's the Black house…but…yes Black was escaped for two years? That long? But he disappeared again. So he's consorting with. Oh god. And Severus! Severus. He's…Dumbledore is here though, and so is…so they…_

My thoughts were becoming less and less coherent as I was bombarded by so much contradictory information. I snapped my head around to look at Severus. His dark eyes bored into mine. I wheeled back around to Dumbledore. I kept looking back and forth until I felt it futile. I didn't have enough information to comprehend what was going on. My hands trembled slightly out of frustration. I wanted to attack something and scream and curl up and cry.

Frustration was washing over me in crashing waves until a small reserved part of my conscious not in upheaval whispered. _If you don't belong in a normal reality, perhaps you can exist in an impossible premise. Perhaps you will…_ I didn't want to let myself think it…but I needed to come to terms. _Perhaps you will fit into whatever this madness is. _

This calmed me. I allowed a deep breath and allowed my eyes to close for an infinitesimal small period of time. Though I doubted the entire experience had been betrayed by my face, I had made sure to reinstate the envelope of indifference. I pulled my hand away from Dumbledore's.

"I have waited very long to meet you," Dumbledore stated, "but there is an entire house full of very anxious witches and wizards who are just as eager to meet you." He swept his hand in the direction of the house. "Would you accompany me to your new home?"

The idea of a home was far too alien to accept. I allowed that one to pass, but what I could not get past was the idea of staying in an entire house _filled_ with witches and wizards. My skin crawled and my stomach turned in disgust. The last time I had been surrounded by an abnormally large group of wizards they primarily deatheaters. _Disgusting..i'd never feed off them_. But how would I keep myself away from an entire house all too willing to let me in?

There was a reason vampires rarely kept human company. It was…difficult. Perhaps if I had eaten more recently, but I had not. I felt my throat constrict over the burning sensation.

I allowed a curt nod of my head. Dumbledore swept around and lead me towards the door of the dark but inviting Grimauld Place


	4. 4: A New Home

Unhallowed

Part 4

At the top of a small flight of stairs I stood in front of a door in badly need of a painting. The hardware of the door was in the shape of serpents. Dumbledore turned the handle and allowed the door to slowly ease open. I glanced sideways and then stepped in. Though the outside was mundane, the inside radiated magic.

Once inside I could see old-fashioned gas lamps all along the walls, peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls, with a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, with a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. The heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snoutlike nose.

I gravitated towards the end of the hallway which opened up into a kitchen. Pots and pans were clanking. A single woman in a patched paisley dress and pair of brown soft leather booties bustled around. Dumbledore swept past me.

"Oh good morning Albus, it is good to have you here. I didn't think you would be arriving so early," a shorter ginger haired woman called with her back to us. She busied herself at the counter prepping several pans from which delicious odors wafted. Eggs, toast, sausages, and more bombarded my senses.

I turned to notice that several of the thirteen wizards had not joined, except for four.

"Oh Molly I do apologize for having arrived at an hour during which we should all be quite asleep," Dumbledore responded warmly.

"Nonsense," the ginger wizard from the club interrupted as he also brushed past. He stopped for a second and cast me a wary glance but then stepped towards who I assumed was his wife and wrapped his arms around her and pecked her on the cheek.

"Oh, Arthur, I didn't realize that you were..." As Molly twirled around she sized up everyone and her eyes came to rest on me. I wasn't sure how to respond. So I didn't. I just continued to take in the kitchen around me, and the delicious aroma emanating from the kitchen. If the woman made all this on her own, we were going to be very good friends. "Oh hello, darling," her face lit up. "You must be Genevieve." My eyes locked onto her rosy cheeks and boisterous smile. It felt welcoming, if somewhat flustered. "Now come here darling, you must be exhausted, darling. There is a room already set up for you if you're tired," she continued, "You must be exhausted, poor thing, all this flurry of events over the last few hours. The bathroom is down the hall from your room."

"Oh I'm not—," but she cut me off

"Nonsense! You must be plenty beat. Just make your way up the stairs and get situated. If you really don't feel sleep coming to you, make your way backdown and I'll have a spot of breakfast ready for you."

She was quite energetic and I didn't feel it in me to argue with her. She seemed to mean well at least. And I suppose I could clean up and get myself under control before partaking in the breakfast she was promising. I glanced towards to Dumbledore, he was joined by the bubblegum headed witch and the raggedly beat looking wizard, but he was simply sitting and enjoying a belated cup of tea at a table that looked as if it could seat at least twenty people. My head swiveled toward Severus. He had remained between myself and the front door. He looked at me searchingly and nodded slightly. With little else to do I made my way up the stairs in search of my room.

I realized that asking may have been prudent, but I would rather have painstakingly eyed every room in the house silently to find my room than ask for directions. So I made my way up and down three flights of stairs until I found what I assumed my room because the door was ajar, no one else currently occupied the room, and my trunk was carefully placed at the foot of a very large four-poster bed.

It was not difficult to recognize that this had been the Black house, or rather, a very prominent pure blood family. Though threadbare and peeling, every ounce of the house oozed extravagance. The posts on the four-post bed were very intricately carved serpents. Designs that looked tortuously painstaking were painted in emerald all along the wall papered walls. Black smoke singed the walls above each gas lantern, and the center of the ceiling was adorned with a lavishly ornate chandelier.

I felt a heavy ominous presence weighing down on my chest, so I hurried through my trunk to grab toiletries and a change of clothes.

The bathroom was no better. Dark, ornate, and everything decorated in a serpentine fashion. Even drawing water apparently required serpent ends with emerald eyes; water poured out of the mouth and over me as I washed. Unlike the pure and chilled droplets falling from the sky, these were warm, and felt too heavy. They seemed to choke my senses and so I turned the tap to completely cold. It helped, but only just. I still felt like drowning beneath the oppression of this house, but at least I didn't feel like I was burning up too.

If I were to be surrounded by wizards and witches I suppose I ought to dress as one. I changed into a simple dark purple robe that had a lustrous shimmer and a comfortable crush velvet lining. The trim of the robe was a gun metal grey, as was the stitching. It was adorned with a heavy hood that would allow me to curl up and pretend to nap as it rested over my eyes. I slipped my feet into a pair of black peep toe heels. They were tall enough to feel comfortable, yet the perfect height for walking comfortably.

I deposited my items back to my trunk and debated whether using magic was a good idea yet. I decided against it and left my wand tucked safely at the bottom of the trunk. I didn't need the wand for most of the magic I performed, but it was comforting to have none-the-less. Vampires were endowed with several innate magical abilities that allowed them to manipulate their surrounding with ease, including other people…_well so did my father_….

I shook my head clear of thoughts, pinned up my damp hair, and endeavored to make my way down stairs and seem as normal as possible.


	5. 5: Breakfast

Unhallowed

Part 5

Slowly I made my way down the stairs. It was probably six or seven now, so the sun would unquestionably be out…well, up at least. The heavy sound of water falling on the roof attested to the thick clouds that heavily clung to the sky.

The lighting of Grimmauld place was surprisingly ambient for being so sparse yet being responsible for lighting such a vast dark house. The heavily wooded steps were thick with dust, but so were the walls, lamps, chandeliers, paintings, and curtains. Small chester drawers lined the hallways on each landing. There were five total, counting the kitchen and the entryway as a single floor. Although it was obvious that the house had been left to fall into disrepair for a very long interval of time, the memory of its highly extravagant past lay thick on the walls. The threadbare flooring was soft none the less; the peeling wallpaper was flecked with the remaining bits of silver, gold, and emerald paint. The wood, from picture frames, to floor, to banisters were all deep hued hard woods that cracked and mildewed with neglect. Flakes of gold leaf remained inlayed seemingly randomly. Instead of brass fixtures adorning doors, which badly needed to be repainted, heavily tarnished silver stood in their place. In fact, heavily tarnished silver could be found almost everywhere: window sills, light fixtures, some picture frames, drawer handles.

It was difficult not to feel drawn to the isolation that the house's past seemed to offer. However, I continued admiring and slowly descending until I made it to the kitchen. By this time in the morning, the kitchen was alive with bustle, chatter, laughter, and owl hooting. Mail, of course, must have already arrived. I could hear the boisterous crowd before I entered the kitchen, but I could also smell them and feel them. They felt warm, a sensation that brought the pang at the back of my throat to be brought to the forefront of my thoughts. I closed my eyes and breathed out and cracked my neck. I took a deep breath and noticed the other foods wafting down the hallway. Included now were various juices, coffee, tea, fruit, and cream.

Choosing food or isolation, I tried to inconspicuously enter and be seated at the end corner of the large table. I succeeded in avoided detection for probably about six seconds before silence fell on the room.

"So darling," Molly called, bravely trying to break the ice, "would you like a spot of breakfast?" I tried to put on my most grateful smile, accompanied with a small nod. "Well, what will you be having?"

I glanced around the room, "Just…whatever is convenient," I manage to get out. It sounds warmer than usual, though not particularly loud.

"Nonsense, there's plenty, just name it!" Continuing the line of conversation and preventing anyone else from speaking. I could feel all the eyes in the room on me.

"Just fruit and cream…and um, perhaps some coffee?" Though I could perhaps be embarrassed, really I am just trying to crawl inside myself, though it isn't reflected in my posture. I sit straight up with one arm idly on the table twirling a spoon, shifting my eyes between it and the rest of the room. A small smile plays on my lips; I try to make sure it's a warm, sweet smile, but it probably looks more of a smirk: more aloof than I mean, but as aloof as I feel.

Aloof was a good word. All I wanted to do was to dive into isolation and silence, while looking sweet about it, and I ended up with some in-between mess: Aloof, Standoffish. Definitely not as friendly as I was intending, but far friendlier than I was feeling.

"Of course, honey, of course," Molly returned with a warm, rosy smile both on her lips and in her eyes. She quickly flung together a bowl of melon balls, sliced strawberries, and plump blueberries and generally covered them in whipped cream. She placed the bowl next to me with a miniature pitcher filled with heavy cream. I felt my mouth watering immediately.

"Thank you," I murmured as I gracefully took up the cream and poured it around the edges of the bowl. Next she sat a generous cup of coffee down next to the bowl. I used the last of the cream on the coffee, and whilst swirling my spoon around the fruit and cream, I sipped the coffee. The chatter failed to reignite, and my eyes glanced from my swirling spoon to glance briefly over the faces at the table. I adjusted from a straight posture, to lean back in the chair. The table was overrun primarily by gingers- _probably a family_. Which couldn't be so bad if they were all as enjoyable as Molly. A set of twins by the look of it, Molly, Arthur, Dumbledore, the tired looking man with brown hair, bubblegum girl, a young lady with bushy brown hair, a shorter ginger, Severus, and a boy who was looking at me quite intently, and holy mother of god! Sitting casually across from Severus with quite a smug look plastered to his face was Sirius Black. So that meant the intently looking boy with the round spectacles was….

_Holy mother of God! Of all the goddamn motley groups of misfits I find myself in! _My eyes chanced a glance to his forehead, but to no avail, his hair was messily strewn affront what would confirm his identity. _Of course it would. Wait…is he looking at that because he thinks I'm here to kill him, because…_ I reclined my head back a small bit and allowed quiet hallow laugh to escape from my lips.

"Excuse me, but is there something you find humorous?" The bushy one spoke…Hermione…right? That's what Rita Skeeter had reported this last year. _Well it was Rita Skeeter, who knows if she got the name even close to correct._ I couldn't help but laugh again under my breath.

I allowed the small smirk that formed to remain on my lips and I turned my gaze on her, "Quite." She gave a small quiver of her head as if to ask, 'well what?' But I didn't respond. If she wanted answers, she could ask questions.

The ginger sitting next to her was the next to speak, "So you're the, you know…of, um…You-Know-Who? Or you know…right?"

_Coherent-no, hilarious-yes. _"Right," I deadpanned. _This will be the least eloquent; most awkward conversation in my entire life..._Another small laugh escaped my lips.

"So what exactly is it that you're finding so humorous?" Hermione asked, scrunching her face in clear confusion.

"This," I allowed my eyes to sweep the room, paired with a subtle shrug of my hand, "entire situation."

"What, what about it?" Hermione continued, as agitated as ever. It was starting to rub off onto me, as I felt the irritation. Couldn't she form less vague questions?

"What _exactly_ are you looking for me to say?" my eyes lied heavily unto her as I drawled the question out. She looked away, and shrugged a bit, obviously flustered.

The twins began conversing amongst themselves again, drawing the gaze of a few others around the table. I sipped my coffee. Slowly conversations seemed to start up again. I swirled my spoon absentmindedly in the fruit as I hazarded a glance around the room. Raven Haired Famous Boy or whatever the hell the newspapers were calling him lately was still staring. Him staring so intently was irritating, so I placed my eyes back on the fruit and took a drew up a spoonful and ate it.

Glanced back. Still staring. "Yes?" the smirk fell off my lips to a state of indifference. I brought my eyes to level with his.

"What are _you_ doing here," he questioned impassively. I couldn't tell if he was angry, curious, or feeling just as awkward as I was. I could easily check but…_but you can use your words and not coerce information out of people's thoughts…..right…that one._ I silently chastised myself

"That is, indeed, a pertinent question," I jested. The small smile was back on my lips. They wanted answers from me, and I was the one abducted here last night- nutters, they should have the answers.

"So would you mind answering it?" He shot back

"What I am doing here…is currently attempting to eat."

"A straight answer, please."

"I'm fairly certain those words went straight out of my mouth to your ears." _Oh, this was enjoyable. _

"You think you can just be here, and put all of us in danger, and know where everything is, and – ugh! You don't belong here!" He became very tense and stood up shouting the last part. My lips curled back, and I forced them into a tight line, as not to bear them. The last thing I needed to do was appear threatening.

"Indeed," I quietly acquiesced. "But why not?"

"You…" he breathed heavily, disdain burning through his eyes, but then I noticed something else burning through his eyes; Something in the recesses of his eyes that burned brighter than the emeralds, but was shadowed by a darker malice than, I believe, he was aware. It was a familiar trait. It burrowed itself into my skull. I looked away. "Your past is murder and evil. It has no place here. We are trying to help people! And you! What're you doing here?" He bellowed.

"Harry…" The worn looking man began. Harry glanced towards him momentarily, and then back towards me.

"Yeah Harry, don't be a git," one of the twins cooed.

"No Remus! She doesn't…she isn't like you, she doesn't belong here!"

"Obviously," I mused aloud. It was difficult to take his outburst seriously. Though the other had reserves, they didn't seem outwardly hostile. "He's clearly a werewolf, and I am clearly…" I paused looking between Remus and myself meaningfully, "not." Surprise registered briefly across his face and several others. Yes…that horribly haggard appearance and heavy circles, the light palsy that overcame his slightly bagged skin. It was fairly obvious…well, to someone who extensively studied half-breeds.

"Your worse," Harry accused. This was growing tiresome quickly. Though I felt my mood was sometimes fickle. I could play banter all day and stay mildly bemused, or I could cut this off. I didn't know which one would gain me more respect. But seeing as how I was snatched fairly on the spot this morning, perhaps expedience was a virtue.

"You want to hate me?" I retorted, "Fine. Hate me. But make sure that you hate _me_; not my past, or choices I didn't have the option to choose. Hate decision I actually made. Did you get to choose your parents? I think not. Did you get to choose anything that came before you, or shape the world before yourself?" I became perfectly still as I continued to enunciate each word sharply. "We have a choice. We always have a choice. And we make those choices to either leave the world better for it, or scarred for it. But everything that that comes before us, we have no choice in. Those are decision we could not make, and therefore the only choice we have is how we deal with those decisions." I paused and stared at him. "I didn't kill your parents, Harry. I didn't make that choice."

His fists remained clenched tightly at his sides. Though his skin was already quite pale, his knotted fists caused his knuckles to turn even whiter. I could almost hear his teeth grind together as he considered me. "Do you have a soul?" he whispered harshly.

"Do you?" I retorted, arching an eyebrow as I considered him. He remained silent for an entire minute before I continued. "If you can't possibly prove that you have one, how could you perchance ascertain the existence of mine?" I shrugged my shoulders and reached for my coffee. I took a sip and enjoyed its fragrance as it rolled over my tongue. "You can't," I was looking absentmindedly into my cup of coffee and took another sip. I could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he released a hiss of breath. It made me cringe. Harry, however, must have mistaken my response.

"Not to your liking anymore?" Harry asked coldly as he sat down.

"Soooo…Genevieve," Hermione cut in, "You read Lovecraft, too?"

"Hmm?" I glance over her way then drink some more coffee. It was calming. I drank so much coffee I'm pretty sure I've developed a complete immunity to caffeine- but the flavor was comforting.

"I just noticed that, well, you quoted a few lines from Isis Lovecraft's _Causality_, her work on—,"

"Oh yeah," I muttered, "I suppose you could say I've read a few things she's written," I tried to smile warmly at her, but again…aloof.

"I suppose you would. She's written some groundbreaking work in the area of half-breeds and ethical considerations. I found her writings on house-elves particularly inspiring. It was primarily her work that spawned my, um," her voice grew smaller, "S.P.E.W." She finished quietly.

"Excuse me?" I asked somewhat taken aback. Words were coming out of her mouth, but they weren't making any sense.

"The Society for Elfish Welfare," she said matter-of-factly, her courage renewed.

I looked over at her meaningfully, "Fascinating," I said as enthralled as I could muster. I wasn't particularly interested I supposed, but anything to keep her talking was all I wanted. And talk she did. She started talking about how she believes all Elves should be freed and instead collect the wages, pensions, sick leave, and other benefits that a normal worker earns. Though her logic seemed troublesomely flawed, I maintained a warm smile on her face to encourage her to continue. Almost immediately all of the others grew bored and started to clear the table.

After about an hour and half of encouraging Hermione's ramblings I silently wondered what I had gotten myself into. It was readily apparent that everyone must have heard these speeches at least five times. She then further told me about her exploits—such as trying to free the house elves by hiding clothing elsewhere. She seemed smart, but the prospect honestly shocked me. It is surprisingly muddy thinking on her part to think that the elf hats she hides around the Gryffindor common room will have any effect. A House-Elf can be freed if given clothes by his or her master, but Hermione is not their master, and so accepting clothes from her will not free the elves. Hermione should have been able to predict that the elves would not be freed by her gift, and their reaction, finding the hats insulting, is unsurprising.

However I was eventually saved by a slender redhead girl.

"Oh hello, Ginny!" Hermione squealed, clearly ecstatic to have someone to gush to about her elf-itarian acts.

"Oi, 'Moine, whose that you're with?" Ginny responded as she walked around the kitchen table gathering her breakfast for the morning.

"This Ginny, is Genevieve," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

Ginny's eyes grew into rather large round disks. "So um, Genevieve," she squeaked in a small voice, "Do you play Quidditch?"

"Never have…" I replied happily, "though I've never been on, or even owned a broom, I—."

"Never. Been. On. A….BROOM!" She said a little louder than expected…almost shouted…definitely shouted.

"It's okay," Hermione chimed in, "it is really not that-,"

"No! It _IS_ that whatever you're going to say it wasn't! And we are going flying… NOW!" Ginny said with a very confident air. "After…I eat some and get changed," she added. She took her seat at the table, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh, mumbling under her breath, "Never been..oh..I mean come on…must cultivate culture amongst these uncultured plebes."

I snorted, "Excuse me?"

"Oh don't even act that way, we are fixing this—that's all there is to it." Ginny announced with finality as she scarfed down her breakfast.


	6. 6: Fuzzthing

Unhallowed

Part 6

Unfortunately for Ginny, Molly interceded with her plans. Something about how muggles would notice us flying around on broomsticks in the middle of London. Apparently the Weasley's used to live in the countryside, allowing for them to practice magic more openly. All of the children were adjusting to Molly and Arthur's reluctance to practice magic as openly, even inside Grimmauld Place. Well, except for the twins—who flagrantly, as Molly called it "whipped their wands out for everything."

Molly's alternative to flying around London conspicuously was a trip to Diagon Alley. I had heard the owls arrive this morning, but I was unaware of the news they brought—and that news was school letters.

_Hmmm, how interesting—they're all going to go off to school and I'm_…but by the time I had finished the thought I had realized that _they_ included me- which also required me to go to Diagon Alley. Something I was more than greatful for, since I need to stock up on blood before my trip to Hogwarts. Severus had mentioned offhandedly that I would be able to make purchases in Hogsmeade while at school as well.

School. How interesting. I had never attended school before, I was primarily self-educated. I felt fickle about most subjects, though I learned quickly—so this year was going to be interesting indeed.

The same could not be said for the trip to Diagon Alley. The trip started off with an hour visit to Gringott's for everyone to acquire a large enough sack of galleons. I preferred to go by myself, and so I made sure to split up from the group before making my way to my vault. Inside treasures from several centuries past lay, from countless pureblood families. Swords, crests, necklaces, goblets, combs, etc. I darted in quickly and filled four pouches with gold. Excessive, but it was going to be my first year at boarding school- I would need to purchase all of my supplies and my uniform…Ugh…uniform.

I made it out of Gringott's before anyone else and waited on the steps outside. I thought of the uniform. The shoes, robes, socks, shirts, and slacks we'd buy, but the school provided the properly colored scarves, ties, and skirts. I would be joining Harry, Hermione, and Ron in their fifth year. So that meant I had my fifth, sixth, and seventh years ahead of me….three years of wearing the same colors—blech. I had Hermione explain the different colors and houses to me. It was interesting to say the least. Why they split the houses up baffled me. I suppose out of tradition. However, it seemed like splitting up the houses was like splitting up Jedi- and one school of Jedi always turned out Sith lords: _So why in the holy mother of god would you keep that house?_ Buggers are completely daft.

After waiting entirely too long on the other to get gold, we went to a robe shop to get tailored clothes, and I immediately recognized a problem. All of the Weasley's children were too large for their robes, none were making purchase of new ones. I was wondering if they had already purchased them earlier in the summer, but then I thought about Molly's patched up dress and softened leather booties. It panged me. Not only did I have more gold lining my overly costly purple robes than they had in their bank account, so did Harry and Hermione—and they did nothing. I excused myself from the store after quickly picking out the bare minimum of what I would need, claiming that I need to go find some special nourishment. Though none of them questioned me, I was accompanied by Severus. He just seemed to be everywhere, and he hadn't left me alone since he found me.

I quickly ducked through the crowds on the cobbled street to the far more lavish robe shop at the end of Diagon Alley. A few wizards much better dressed than myself were spotted around the store, but it was fairly silent.

"Definitely more palatable," Severus chided. I turned on my heel and stared at him.

"We're here to get some things," I responded coldly.

"I hardly doubted you," he seemed bored.

"What is your size?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your size, Severus, what size robes do you wear?"

"I believe that is irrelevant—,"

"Listen, Severus, I can figure out the ladies' sizes easily enough in relation to myself, however you're closer to the twins' sizes and I need to figure out the others' sizes." I began to walk towards the seamstress who would most definitely be able to ascertain Severus's size if he would not willingly comply.

"Oh my," he cooed sarcastically, "You are going to, what, buy your way into their lives?" I froze. The coldness in his voice froze me.

"They're good people," I whispered. "They—,"

"So you're going to buy yourself into their lives?" He repeated again. It seemed ridiculous of course, but it was enough to make me question myself. What was I doing making these purchases for people I hardly knew. _Because they hardly know me and they let me into their home, gave me their food….their trust._

In the end I managed to find two robes for each of them, successfully lightening one of my pouches considerably. We then hurried to find the food store. It a wonderfully colored store, walled with stained glass windows and wrought iron. The floor was an interesting arrangement of very small polished pebbles all glued in place very close to each other. They were bright—it gave the effect of the floor being made of fluorescent jellybeans. It felt flat to walk on, but the effect was charming none-the-less. Different bags, boxes, pouches, and trays of food were all lain out. I approached the back counter.

"Excuse me," I called sweetly with a smile playing on my lips.

"Oh hello, honey suckle, what is it I can do for you?" and elderly woman wearing a robe that much reminded me of the floor.

"I was wondering if you had any supply of blood?" I smiled as warmly as possible and made my posture as inviting as I could. These kinds of questions were best accompanied by warmth and invitation rather than any hints of threat.

"What kinds, darling? Dragon, grindelow…" I allowed her to riddle off her seemingly endless list.

"Human, please."

"Mmm, yes, I have that honey suckle," she said knowingly, now eyeing me much more closely. It was the middle of the day, so I'm sure she was not entirely convince it was for me, which made me all the more suspicious if I kept company with people who required human blood. "How much darling?"

We finished out transaction and met up with the Weasley's at the bookstore. The excessive number of bags I was holding did not go unnoticed.

"Oh, I see you've done a bit more shopping than I expected," Molly said surprised, and slightly embarrassed. A flush covered her cheeks.

"Right, would anyone mind helping me carry bags?" I asked unsuspectingly.

"Oh of course dear, you just give us whatever you can't hold," Molly ushered. I was careful to have tagged each bag and hand each tagged bag to the corresponding individual.

Getting books from the bookstore was uneventful and then we went to the petshop. Hermione wanted to get some baubles for her cat. Secretly I just wanted to get a kitten. Ron and Harry seemed quite upset about Hermione's indecision about what small shiny toys to get her squashed face cat. I had to admit, it was cuddly. I had seen it slinking around the house. Hmm…

I moseyed around the store eyeing all of the creatures in cages and boxes and out on the counters and slinking around the corners of the room. I sauntered up to one cage that caught my attention. It was labeled 'cthulhus'. However, looking inside the cage was not what I would consider a sanity stealing octopus creature. Instead what appeared closer to owl-kittens. They were varying colors, but they were barely larger than a handful; they were a small catlike creature with wings that were adorned in downy like feathers that almost passed as very plush fur. They purred and cooed—and I melted. They came in a range of earthy tones: grey, brown, black, sand, white, cream, and a clayish red. Their faces were distinctly cat like, though they lacked whiskers, and they all had short little bob tails. _Must buy, at least 50…must cuddle until you explode from cuteness_. I somewhat comprehended why they were called cthulhus. They were the cutest animal I had ever seen, though I had the sneaking suspicion they would grow up to weight about fifty pounds and crave people as sacrifice. _Well that was the only way their name would make sense_. _Or perhaps they have boundless narcissism. Or they probably cost as much as an imaginary godlike creature from an imaginary dimension._

I stared at them and watched them play with each other. They played like kittens, but occasionally taking flight. The solid grey one rolled onto its feet and batted its astoundingly fluffy wings and glided to the front of the cage and rubbed it face against the bars letting out a coo. _You. Are. Done. For. _Which wasn't entirely true until I made the mistake of slipping my finger in the cage and allowing the softest thing I have ever imagined rub gingerly against my hand.

I begrudgingly removed my hand from the cage and approached the counter where an eccentric witch stood.

"What's the catch," I asked quickly.

"Excuse me?"

"With the cthulhus. Whats the catch? Do they eat people? Do they grow to the size of a dragon? Do they demand human sacrifice? Do they eat nothing but gold? Do they instigate insanity? What is it?" I quickly barraged her with my questions.

She responded with a sweet bell-like laugh which rang beautifully. "Oh no," she giggled a bit more, "they're fully grown, and they eat what medium carnivorous predators eat, you know, mice, etc. They just cost a small fortune." She continued to giggle.

"How much?" I asked dead serious.

"150 Galleons," she responded absentmindedly. _Ouch_. I thought. That would kill a whole pouch…but…

"Okay, I'll take the grey one," I said, hardly able to resist. It wasn't until this moment that I noticed that Severus was standing next to me. _Like a shadow_. _Hmmm..too cheesy for something as awesomely cute-tastic as a kitten owl._

"You are aware that the only pets allowed—." He started.

"Oh just try and I stop me," I motioned meaningfully at the shopkeeper towards the cthulhu cages. As we walked over to the cage I couldn't help but ask. "Will they try to fly away or…" I really didn't know what to ask. I just felt I should know something about them.

"Well," the shopkeeper giggled, "you can tell they fly like owls, though heavier and clumsier, but they won't deliver mail. But you don't have to worry about them flying away. As far as I can tell they mostly enjoy hovering, and I've never seen one go more than five or six feet off the ground in flight. Also, they're pretty efficient at finding small vermin for them to eat, but they have this odd habit of trying to eat whatever you're eating."

Grrr—and I thought they couldn't get any cuter. Shoulder cat-owl, you are mine. She pulled out the grey one and I held out my hand expectantly. As she released it, it beat its heavy wings and landed in my hair instead. It clawed my scalp, and uncomfortable habit I noted, but totally worth it.

"Genevieve, I don't believe that this constitutes—."

"Severus, I swear to god," I started exasperatedly as I slowly turned to him "Do you even see the most wonderfully amazing creature that has taken refuge on my head? Do you? It shall stay, because it is wonderfully amazing. It just needs a name…" I was at the counter shelling out for the grey muffin of cute-ism that was sleeping atop my head when Hermione, Ron, and Harry walked up.

"Oh dear heavens!" Ron started in disgust, "not you too!"

"Oh no you don't," I growled. "I should be the one saying, 'Oh not you too,' I have the reincarnation of charming on my head—you shall adore it!" I pointedly jabbed my fingers towards my head. "Adore it!"

Hermione was as take with reincarnation charming as I was, and Harry was just looking at me.

"You," I demanded jokingly turning myself to Harry, "start adoring!" I laughed a little at my ridiculousness. Fleeting moments of happiness—I had to enjoy it.

I stared at Harry's emerald green eyes and messy black hair. He seemed more at ease around me now that it was later, or maybe because I was acting like this fuzzthing had taken over my brain.

"I notice that you're in a better mood," I smirked.

"You too," his lips formed the words quietly.

"Good," I continued coolly, "We're both insane, both of our pasts suck, the only difference…" I point meaningfully atop my head. It elicited a chuckle. _I could watch you laugh all day._ Oh…Perhaps cthulhu had stolen my brain. Then my stomach turned, and I realized I had done with one guy in five minutes what I had avoided for doing ever- I became attached. I stared at Harry for a second longer, and finished paying for fuzzstuff that remained purring in my hair. We exited the store. I made a point to stand as far away from Harry as possible, though it was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore him now. In the few minutes that my judgment lapsed I had become attuned to not only his subtlest movement, but his smell and his…blood…._oh god the burning, and he's so…fr—ha no_. I thought coldly- _not even going to contemplate living human blood_.

_I wish I had a friend who could beat sense into me at times like this…well at least I just bought myself a confidant._ I drew my hand above my head and petted the softest thing in existence. _Yes…I'll tell you everything, and you'll never tell._ It purred in response and I smiled. I could make it through this.


	7. 7: Gifts Ungiven

Unhallowed

Part 7

I didn't pay much mind to the rest of the trip. I tried to pour my attention into the sweet thing that took to pacing back and forth across my shoulders and behind my neck. It at least gave me a distraction. The longer that I failed to think about Harry, the better; but I was purposely distracting myself so that I wouldn't think about him and that always reminded me of him again. I silently growled in my mind.

After what seemed like an unpleasant eternity we returned to the top steps of Grimmauld place. The sky remained a muted grey and rain fell heavily onto everything. I adjusted the bags in my hand and pulled my hood quickly over my head. The fuzziness that graced my shoulders was also displeased by the wetness and dodged under my hood and rested under my shoulder. It started purring and clawing my bare flesh. The prickling of pain in my skin everywhere it touched caused my eyes to bug and tried to knock my head into it—an attempt to stop the contented fluffing of my not furry shoulder skin. It failed.

Quickly all of us were herded into the hallway where everyone tried to shake off the heavy water like hounds. Fortunately, my wondrously smooth cloak failed to absorb any water, so changing would be unnecessary.

"Alright flower, where do you want us to drop these," one of the twins motioned, shaking the bags around in the air half-hazardly; _George...Fred? Wait…hmm…one of them will end up with hair dye in their shampoo if I can't figure this out_.

"Oh those," I said nonchalantly as possible, "just keep it, I forgot- I don't need those anymore." I shrugged. Ginny allowed her head to fall to the side as she looked at me quizzically.

"Whatcha mean, dear?" Molly interrupted, "You can't have possibly mistakenly gotten all of…" her voice faded out as she looked quite puzzled.

"Quite. They're all with who they're supposed to be already." I said very seriously, but I tried to allow a small smile. Before anyone else could ruin the surprise I lightly fluidly bolted up the steps to my room.

I opened the door and allowed the luxury of the room to overwhelm me. _Mmmm…._ and the isolation. I stepped into the room and used my foot to ease the door closed behind me. I dropped all of my bags onto the bed with a soft thud, then I pulled down my hood. I removed the fuzzy claw monster from my shoulder, which was now quite tenderized, and brought it level with my face. It fell limp in my hand, so I gave it a quick kiss on the nose before also placing it on the bed. Then I began rummaging through bags to organize items into my trunk. All of my school books, potion ingredients, clothes, etc. were packed away first. I thought about what to do with the little over two pouches of gold I had left, whether to keep them lined in a robe, or to allow them to travel in my trunk. I decided on my trunk—it generally held my wand, and it had yet to fail me. My bit of gold would be safe hidden in there…somewhere.

Meanwhile my most costly purchase rolled around the bed chewing on its own feet and batting at its own wings. I'm plenty sure if it had a more substantial tail than that little bob, it would be chasing and chewing on that too.

I cleared the bed of the final bits of purchases I made and lay myself down. Fuzzything bounded across my stomach, then turned and repeated this several times. _I need a name for you fuzzy. _I took a deep breath and allowed my head to be cleared with the mildew cracked walls. _Sometimes I just wish sleep could overtake me—to distinguish one day from another and to clear my thoughts…_ I remembered the blood I had gotten earlier. I wanted nothing more than to drink it, but it was a process that was going to take an hour or two, and I didn't want anyone interrupting me while it happened.

Then a loud knock rapped at the door.

_Kinda like that_. I took one last deep breath, bounced out of bed and went to answer the door. As I slowly pulled it open I found Molly and Ginny looking simply exasperated.

A full minute of inexpressive stares passed before I spoke. "I'm sorry, is there something I can do for you?" Molly dropped her eyes to the bags in her hand momentarily. She was carrying everyone's bags. "Oh," I started, "are they the wrong size?" I asked as innocently as possible.

"Yes, dearie," she said seriously, "they aren't your size." I let out a small chuckle and decided not to play this out.

"Of course not—they're not for me." Molly look more flustered, as she quickly thought of some way to ease her way out of the bags. "Look," I began more seriously, "It's a gift. You already gave me something rather amazing… Oh and you're a great cook," I added with a large grin. That would sell it. _Always compliment something that people have come to take for granted_…._mmm…and that coffee_.

Molly faltered for a moment, as she continued to ease the bags out of her hands, and onto the floor. "Listen, I'll cut you a deal," I smirked, "You can leave the bags right there, and you'll never see the bags again." She acquiesced. _Oh semantics…I love you._ Molly turned to leave and Ginny looked at me slightly disheartened. I winked, "Ginny, could you help bring these into my room?"

"Yes, Ginny dear, help Genevieve relocate those bags," Molly said quite seriously as she continued to descend the stairs. Quickly Ginny and I scooped the bags off of the hallway floor and dropped them on the bedroom floor. I immediately began pouring the contents of the bags onto the bed. After I had a small pile of robes, I very delicately began to fold them and sort them into piles. Ginny stood blankly and stared as I worked. Fuzzything, however, was anti-helpful in respect to robe folding, so I tossed it towards Ginny. _It… I wonder if its male or female…how will I ever decide on a name if I can't figure that out…hmmm_. I pondered this as I absentmindedly began disposing of the bags. By the time I finished Ginny looked in a somewhat better mood.

"So would you like to be my delivery girl?" I asked with an unabashed grin on my face.

"Um, I…" She muttered.

"You'll just need to be sneaky…can you do that?" I asked as seriously as I could with the smile still on my face.

"But you just….you just told mum that you would get rid of those bags…" she mumbled, while absentmindedly coddling the reincarnation of charming.

"And, if I am not mistaken," I looked around dramatically, "I see no bags in sight."

"Oh-," she started weakly, still somewhat confused, but then, "Oh!" She let out as realization hit. "Yeah- I'm quiet. And I know where everyone's rooms are. I'll-I'll-I'll take care of it," she stumbled over her words. Excitement gripped her as she returned the cute ball to my bed and picked up a pile. I smiled at her reassuringly.

All in all, it probably took about 45 minutes total for her to make all of the deliveries undetected. After which I thanked her, and excused myself to my room. I lied down and declined to go down for dinner. I waited patiently for late night to roll around, so that I could finally drink. I allowed myself to sink into bed and tried to think of names for the winged adorable monster that clumsily flew from surface to surface all evening…no avail. Then when I was sure everyone must be asleep, I pulled the large black glass container that emanated cold from my trunk accompanied by a small shot glass.

I had been working out several ways to feed a long time ago. It started with a pouch that one might keep water in, but I kept modifying it so that it would be more and more difficult to tear the blood out of. One incarnation contained several layers of material I had to draw the blood through and several limiting valves so that I had to apply tremendous pressure to get a satisfying flow. I stopped, however, when I realized that I was trying to replace hunting a human with an artificial entity. That wouldn't help sustain my control, it would only push my limits—it would see how close I could get to killing someone without actually doing it.

I unscrewed the lid from the glass container and took a heavy breath. My throat immediately tensed. I felt like someone who had walked through the searing sun for years on end, but never died of thirst. I wanted nothing more than to drown in the liquid, and then keep drinking. My tongue twitched in my mouth and my lips pulled away from teeth. A small hiss escaped my mouth as I used all of my concentration to calmly set down the bottle on the small but heavy card table in the corner of the room. I sat down in the chair and rolled the shot glass in my fingers. I decided that the best way to keep control was to instigate desperate scenarios. Here I was, so thirsty I thought my throat would never stop burning, and I was already immersed in the itching of my teeth. My fuzzy confidant did figure eights around my ankles on the floor. It irritated me slightly, but it also calmed me. I quickly poured a shot. It took all of my self-control to not push back the whole bottle. I slowly and calmly lifted the small cup to my lips. The aroma was slowly saturating the room. I closed my eyes and bared my teeth. I slowly poured the entire glassful into my mouth. I allowed it cascade over ever part of my tongue and fill every crevice of my mouth before swallowing. I shivered violently and made a lunge to the table, but my hands managed to find a grip on the corner of the table. I held on desperately as I felt the smell continue to fill my head until I felt like my conscious was swimming. Shakily I removed one hand and filled up another shot. The next round was just as violent as the first. I could feel every muscle in my body wanting to tear something apart. But I sat as still as I could while my hands exhibited a small palsy while gripping the table tightly.

After about five shots, I gained more control. The pain in the back of my throat was not quite stabbing, but it was far from sated. I tried to focus on the small creature that had taken resident in my lap before continuing.

About an hour into the ritual my mind was in a blurry haze from bloodlust. I continued to focus on the part of me that controlled my hands, my grip on the table, and the hand that continued to pet a precious creature. It was in the middle of this that I heard a small pounding that I had not realized before, or perhaps it hadn't been there before. My head snapped to my door. My senses were in over drive, and I tried desperately to stay in control of them. I noticed the door handle began to turn ever so slowly. I gripped the table hard, willing for it to cement me in place long enough to get whoever it was to leave. Slowly the door swung open. And standing behind it…_god no…not him…anyone but him—_was the last coherent thought that passed through my brain.

"Get- OUT!" I growled in the calmest, most commanding voice I could must. But Harry only stood there. His eyes stared into mine with an intensity only that shade of emerald could offer. "NOW!" I snarled as loud as I could. However, he remained rooted to the spot. That's when it washed over me. The sound of his heartbeat. The warmth pulsing through him. The slight sweetness of adrenaline spiked in it. I moved so fast, I couldn't stop it. I was out of my chair, which loudly clashed against the wall, and I bolted towards him. I felt that burning washing over me the closer I got… and I need it to consume it. That dark hair to entwine my fingers into as I brought his neck to bear. A growl swelled in my chest as lunged at him; I twitched my hands enough for them to crash onto the wall on either side of his head. I had him caged. I tried to pull my head away, but it would not respond. I took heavy breathes, which only continued to saturate my nostrils with his sweet, warm, honey scent. My body seemed to pull itself against him as a hand darted to his hair. My slender fingers entwined with that stiff, silky, messy hair as I became painfully aware of the pain that consumed my teeth. They ached. They itched. They needed pressure. For a moment I tried to grind them together, but was unsuccessful.

My head reeled with the tempting honey pulsing beneath me. My eyelids fluttered closed as I began to lower my lips to his delicately pale skin. My body unconsciously pressed itself against him. I wanted to feel the pressure of his pulse as it slowed.

"Don't worry…"my voice whispered so quietly and so sweetly…in the back of my mind, part of me registered that this was not _my_ voice. "I promise…"I breathed heavily into his ear, "this will be as good for you as it will be for me," I purred. The very tip of my tongue ran down the length of his neck, causing him to visibly tense. I held him fast in place and nuzzled my nose into that gloriously warm, soft, pale skin. My teeth reminded me they what they were longing for and a growl rolled through my chest as I held Harry tighter in place.

It is possible, that I perhaps heard the mad dash of heavy footfalls ascending the stairs, but in truth I was so far gone I don't remember much after that growl left my chest. Besides crashing. I remember very distinctly being flung violently across the room, however I never remember landing.

I shook myself awake. That was not good. Is this what it was like to have nightmares and then to realize that they were a dream...my stomach turned over itself and I felt unbelievably sick. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, but I did attempt to sit up. I immediately felt several sets of hands restraining my arms…

_It wasn't a dream…because I don't sleep._


	8. 8: Past isn't Past

Unhallowed

Part 8

Several sets of hands held me fast against the bed, which induced mild claustrophobia, however I overcame it. The sickening feeling washed over me, as well as a light coating of perspiration. My chest constricted as horror consumed me. I couldn't remember what happened in my blood lust clouded mind. _Did I do it? When did he get there? How long passed before I attacked him_? I was having difficulty remember any details from the evening before except that I was drinking, there _he _was…I was crashing into the floor; and now there are hands.

I quivered violently, and I felt the increasing pressure of the hands. I tried to focus on the feeling in the back of my throat. Though slightly muted, the pain still scorched. I allowed my eyes to flicker open. Hovering over me were Remus, the twins, Arthur and Ron. I glanced at each of them, and then around the room. I was slowly becoming aware of the aching in the left side of my body, my wrists, and especially my neck. All those restraining me began to edge their hands away.

I wondered silently why they didn't use magical restraints, but I found myself grateful they didn't. I remained laying down, even though I felt nauseated and wanted nothing more than to walk around.

"Do you remember anything?" Remus asked. I shook my head slightly. I looked him straight in the eyes, even though I was being dishonest. It was a horrifying experience, but I wasn't going to grace it enough by speaking about it. "What's the last thing you remember?"

My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, as did my lips, chest, and lungs. It would take a great deal of energy to try and speak—so I didn't. I moved to sit up again; this time no one attempted to stop me. I need to leave. To walk. To get some goddamned coffee and fresh air.

Quickly I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Part of me heard the barrage of questions, but I pretended not to. I glanced around hands that darted out after me as I eased out of the room. I darted up to my room and locked the door. I heard footfalls behind me. The locked door gave me just long enough to expediently slip into muggle clothes and grab my purse. I noticed a grey puff of fuzz lazily roll over on my feet. I stopped for a moment.

"Esper…" it was a barely audible whisper, but the adorable fluffy gave out mew. I rolled it over with my foot and it chewed on my toes. "Esper is a good name for you charming, but I need to go…" I heard the door rattling, "quickly." Esper gave out another mew as I began to dash around to scoop up my purse, muggle money, and shoes. "I'm sorry, but I can't take you, it'd be utter rubbish if I got caught. Kittens aren't supposed to have wings." I quickly ran a brush through my hair and pulled part of it back enough to get it out of my face, then I felt claws on my leg.

"Hey," I chastised quietly…I was met with a soft mew… "Fine, you want to be stubborn," I snapped open my purse and lowered it—Esper bounced inside and curled up. "Yeah, we'll see," I clasped the purse mostly closed. I carefully opened the door to a large group of people.

The questions began, but I remained silent. I waited for the appropriate spacing and then darted down the stairs. I continued my lightning pace to the front door. Severus stood in front of it.

"You can't—," he started, but I ducked beneath him as someone lunged at me. Quickly I grabbed at the door handle and jerked it open and quickly yanked it shut behind me as I swept out onto the street.

I naturally moved quickly, but I tried to remain inconspicuous. I knew that a few of them were following me, so I began to weave through streets and alleys. At one point I entered a shop with a plethora of windows and I pretended to browse some racks of clothes inconspicuously. I noticed Hermione streak by a few minutes after I entered; I decided to leave the way I came.

After about another half an hour of snaking around the city I finally found a tea shop to stop at. I grabbed a spot of coffee and a small tray of fruit and made my way to a corner table that was tucked half behind a wall. Sitting down I unclasped my purse and began to pet the purring ball that lay curled up and contented. I sipped my coffee and slipped a bit of apple from the tray into my purse. Esper began to lick my fingers and finally chew the end of the apple. After wrestling it out of my hand, I heard a small growl emanate from the bottom of my bag. _Yeah yeah…you found, you killed it…_Though I quickly found myself not in the mood for lighthearted jokes about killing. _I almost killed him. God, why was he so stupid. Why did he have to be there? Is it normal behavior to just waltz into people's rooms in the middle of the night? What was he hoping to find? _

I continued to sip my coffee and absentmindedly nibble on the fruit tray, occasionally slipping Esper bits of it. He or she seemed much contended with this non-carnivorous diet. _If only I could say the same…_

After about two hours I ordered some more coffee and fruit and began wandering. Unfortunately it was a somewhat brighter day than usual. _No comforting, confiding, covering, cold rain today_. After another hour or two of wandering, fate decided it wanted to make my day I saw a flash of very distinct blonde hair. I immediately dodged to the nearest wall, and rest my shoulders against it, facing a different direction. _Fate…a wall to my back, monsters to my front, fate can take a piss. _As if sensing my anxiety Esper began to growl lightly, I absentmindedly dropped my hand into my purse. I chanced a glance towards where I had seen the blonde. _Gone_. I let out a tense breath, and rolled my shoulder off the wall. I began walking the way I came when suddenly I felt a jerk of my shoulder pulling me into an alley.

"What the—!" was all I managed to get out before a slender hand cupped itself over my mouth. My shoulders were roughly shoved against the wall as I came face to face with the youngest Malfoy.

"Shhhh…hmm…Fancy meeting you here," he cooed. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be threating. Mostly it was annoying. If it wasn't for some misplaced self-righteousness I would probably dig into his brain and scramble it for kicks.

"Bloody hell," I growl, "For a bourgeoisie snob, you're awfully rude." Draco pulled back and straightened his shoulders.

He offered an arm and bowed a bit, "Excuse me, I was just hoping we could share a pleasant chat." I took a deep breath. For a group of people who were such damned prats about being 'pure-bloods' their blood reeked. _God I would have to be desperate to ever feed off you._ I arched an eye-brow as a frown played on my lips. He continued to stare intensely with his arm proffered. Luckily he was probably too inept to actually apparate anywhere, and he's ducked away from his parents, _so it can't be too bad_.

Cold and removed I placed my hand on his arm. _Odd for them to even be out wearing muggle clothes. _

We walked towards the back of the alley, instead of around on the main streets.

"Won't mum and dad be worried," I jeered. He winced slightly, _that's a yes_.

"No." _Horrible liar_. _Or perhaps I'm just perceptive…_I began to contemplate the distinction between other's poor lying and my keen perception when a growl rumbled my bag. Draco paused and glanced at me meaningfully.

"Something wrong, Malfoy?" My voice dared him. He looked evocatively from me to my purse. I stared back.

"Are you aware your purse…growled?" He asked coldly. Or attempted to. _They think they're such cold blooded gits, but they're just scared and easily influenced. Rubbish._

"And would like to blindly shove your hand inside to find out what's causing that? I was quite unaware of anything keeping residence in my purse, however since you're so keen on pointing out the elusive, perhaps you should try to find out what it is?" My words dripped with sarcasm, though I hoped he would dare to put his hand in the bag so I could find out what Esper would do. _A small ball of fluff I purchased for a heavy 150 galleons was much more intriguing than the run whose arm I lazily grasped. _

Unfortunately, Malfoy got the point. "So," he drawled, attempting to sound disinterested, "what're you doing back in London?"

"So," I responded indifferently, "What're you doing snatching bodies and luring them into allies?"

He let out an agitate breath and turned to face me. "I understand," he hissed coldly, "that you are _clearly_ displeased. But perhaps you didn't realize that—in earnest—I wanted to talk to you. Notice my lack of parents?" He jabbed his hand at the empty air, as if to draw my attention to what he had said. I allowed a curt nod.

"So could we _please_ have a civil conversation?" He was too annoyed to be pleading. I allowed another curt nod. He let out a heavy breath. "Good," he seemed relieved, "because I missed you."


	9. 9: Emotional Indulgence

Unhallowed

Part 9

We found a small park that had small fountain in the corner. We choose to set ourselves on the side that was mostly hidden from the public. Setting myself onto the ground I decided to peek into my purse. I turned the silver clasp as a round soft head pushed its way out.

"Oh no you don't," I mumbled. Esper rubbed its head against my hand softly. "Nope, part of the deal. You got to come with, you stay in the bag." I couldn't help but allow a small smile to rest on my lips. Esper just sat staring at me. "Sorry, you ate all the fruit." Then I noticed Draco lower himself to sit on the ground next to me. He was uncomfortably close.

Well he was probably uncomfortable, wearing black dress clothes from head to toe. It was flattering against his pale skin, but I could hear the material scrunch as he leaned his back against the fountain. I continued to stare at Esper, who managed to keep that small smile on my lips.

"Are you really talking to that thing?" Malfoy drawled. _Was he trying to be annoying? Or was this his natural state of being?_ Esper, however, growled for me. It made my smile widen.

"Isn't it the most darling thing you've ever seen?" I couldn't help but ask.

"A kitten?" He raised both eyebrows.

I allowed my eyes to dart around to make sure no one was looking; I quickly hoisted Esper completely out of the bag and into Malfoy's view, before returning it to the bag. _It…he…she…goddamn it I need to figure this out. I shall not have a neuter owl-cat…unless they are neuter…hmmm…_

"Wow..um," he gulped slightly, "that's…not a kitten."

"Scared of the cutest thing in existence?" I teased. I couldn't help it.

"Those…they're just…"

"Ungodly expensive? Soft as clouds? Cute as rainbows?" I started babbling, but he just continued to stare at Esper uncomfortably.

"Yeah…they're just… yeah…all that stuff." He mumbled.

"Well since you know what they are, can you tell if it's a boy or a girl?" I asked pointedly.

He drew his cold eyes up to mine, "Excuse me? You named your soul-monster and you don't know whether it's a lady or not?"

"Well I suppose if I could decide it will be a lady…"

"Of course it is," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "because you are. They take on characteristics of whoever they are closest to."

"Wa-wa-wait," I said dramatically, "so it can…change sex?"

"Well now it probably won't. It's probably fairly strongly bonded to you, but I don't know. They're scary."

I couldn't help but laugh. I nuzzled my face into Esper's and planted a kiss on top of that fluffiness. Draco's eyes grew larger. "This is probably the least scary thing I've ever seen Malfoy…well, besides you."

"Ha, bloody ha ha," he deadpanned. "I suppose you'll find out later." I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue the subject. Things were going fairly smoothly. "So what're you doing in London."

"School," I continued petting Esper, who was trying desperately to escape my purse and curl herself into my lap. "Uh-uh honey, you get to stay in the bag." I noticed Draco shake his head as his silvery blonde hair shuddered against his face.

"Does anyone know you're back?"

"Back? Yeah a couple people I suppose…." I tried not to think about it.

"Yeah well, with what happened at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year…everyone's been looking for you." _Was that concern?_

"Probably." _One word responses… stop shutting down. Don't let them… fuck it…_Numbness enveloped me.

"So…" Draco was clearly put off, and didn't pursue the topic. "School starts in a week."

"Mm," I gave a small nod. I allowed my back to form more to the fountain. I enveloped myself in the sense of the cold hard cement.

"Listen Genevieve…" Draco began. _Not now._

"Sorry Draco," my voice sounded dead, and I gave him a cold stare. _Last summer…_I tried not to let the headlines of the papers leak into my mind, but alas. "I know that…that…" I couldn't bring myself to even discuss it, "I just can't be close to anyone…"

He glanced down at my bag. "It's been five years…"

"And I'm no more in control now then I was then," not that I would ever attack him, god his blood smelled like it was laced with…something horrid… "I attacked someone last night…I'm hiding right now."

"Oh…" Draco gave small nod, "that's why they are here."

"Bloody hell!" I tried not to yell, but my voice called out. The numbness placed my body into inaction. Pacing down the road was Hermione and Ron. "Sonuva.." I glared towards Draco.

He stared back with an impassive face. _Has he been sitting close this whole time_? He raised his hand and brushed it against my shoulder comfortingly. It panged me. I felt guilty. I always wanted to be a friend for him but… _why did he have to be such a damned prat_?

Everyone needs a close friend, a confidant… but Draco needed to come to terms with what he needed in life without a romantic interest muddying things. I felt somewhat guilty that I couldn't help him, but I wasn't going to be his confused friend-love interest…especially not with our family ties.

"Genevieve—I," he whispered. _Oh god…not that pitiful look_. My empathy overwhelmed me. We both had similar family expectations….but I left because…_because I have a choice…we have a choice…we always have a choice_… I took a deep breath and allowed indifference to wash over my empathy.

I ruffled his hair playfully, "Take comfort if your fabulous hair," I murmured as I messed with it a bit more.

"You do have magic fingers, you know that." I recoiled my hand quickly and gave the smallest smile I could muster.

"We both need to get going, I do believe," I nodded to myself while standing, as if to reaffirm what I was stating. He sat on the ground and looked at me for a moment more before begrudgingly standing. "I," I paused, not knowing whether or not to say it; I had started, so I might as well finish, "I missed you too. Perhaps we'll see each at a time when neither of us has to hide." He gave a small nod, as he brushed his clothes straight. I paused for a moment and glanced around, planning my escape. I realized how this behavior must have been being interpreted. I looked back to Draco and quickly snuck an arm around shoulders and squeezed. "I do miss you, but you have just as much to sort out as I do." I tried to smile again and pulled my arm back. My lips tightened and I gave a small nod and I bolted off. Clouds had started rolling in overhead. The walk home would be comforting.

It took about an hour. It had started our lightly pouring, however that soon transitioned into quite the summer shower. I found myself in front of Grimmauld Place soaked through. Seeing Draco had been comforting. He was the only person I had ever known that was age. Though he was pressured into behaviors, thoughts, and lifestyles by his family, he never seemed to truly understand them. I always understood things from a much younger age. I was seven years old when I first realized the disgusting nature of my father's work, and also when I first really understood the reasons for the contempt held against me.

I began to understand the sneers, the fear, the painful things adults would say to me. It was never the children, because the children didn't understand these things, not really. It was always the adults. Much of it originated because I was a half-breed, but much of it also spurred from the fact people did not believe that my father was who I said it was. Riddle. Tom Riddle. The shoves, the insults, the condescending attitudes of those adults made my blood boil. It was when I was seven that I remember sitting in a grass field all afternoon, by myself, pondering everything.

I remember humming to myself for several hours, and then I prayed. I prayed that my mother was okay wherever she was, that I would be okay, and that my father would be okay too. I prayed to love and be loved. I prayed to stop the burning in my throat. I prayed until tears rolled over my eyes. I didn't know to whom the prayer was too, but I was hopeful then. That whoever was supposed to hear it, would hear it. It was while I was pondering everything that was said about me, against me, to me, behind my back, that I realized how much I hated ignorance. The realization came suddenly and piercingly. Out of it grew some out-of-place self-righteousness. I vowed never to be that cold, hateful, _ignorant_ individual. I just sat in the grass with my knees pulled to 7 year old chest and rocked. I allowed tears to roll freely over my chest. I thought of the pain that haunted my life. Then I thought of the pain that must have haunted my mother…and my father…and I cried harder. I thought of the pain of those so cold and bitter that they had to berate me. I remember hyperventilating. Then I heard a boy call my name. I peeked through my swollen eyelids to see Draco approaching. I began to cry harder. Everything he had to go through too. It overwhelmed me. It was the first time that I cried so hard that I blacked out.

I pinpointed the pain that threatened to burst from my chest, and I quenched it. I focused on it, and numbed it. I continued to stare at Grimmauld Place as the water rolled over me. I felt the heat that had risen in my face. I took several deep breathes and shook my head. I allowed the blood to ease out of my face before striding up to the door.


	10. 10: Hogwart's Express

Unhallowed

Part 10

On September first I found myself and the Grimmauld entourage on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters; Magically concealed behind the barrier between Muggle Platform Nine and Platform Ten, this Platform is where Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry students board the Hogwarts Express on 1 September, in order to attend school.

Standing before the large startlingly large red steam engine, I tried to stay close to Hermione. Nervousness was growing in the base of my neck, which I cracked methodically to try and ease the tension. The Weasleys pushed a few hand trolleys containing all of the trunks. I had my purse (which Molly had generously enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm) slung tightly over my shoulder. It contained a few essentials, my wand, school uniform, and my sweet Esper curled up atop all of it.

Luckily the day had been fairly stormy, so I had jacket with a hood thrown up over my head—it helped to reduce stares, though the same could not be said for Harry. I had glanced over the papers a few time through the summer and noticed the hysteria surrounding him and Dumbledore.

Things had started to get quite hectic in the Wizarding World- the death of Cedric Diggory, the Triwizard Tournament, Harry and Dumbledore's claims. Many people didn't believe what had happened last year…I probably wouldn't either, except I could look straight into Harry's eyes and see what was lingering beneath them…Not lately however—since the incident that night I had avoided Harry as much as possible. I took to barring my door when I did drink and made sure to let someone else know what I was going to do that night.

After a few minutes I was being herded with everyone else onto the train. I had originally intended on finding a cabin to myself and keeping it locked the entire ride, however I hadn't planned on arriving to the train only a few minutes before its departure. It was virtually impossible to find a vacant cabin. The train was overflowing with people bumping into each other in the narrow path. I tried to keep my purse tucked close to me to avoid knocking Esper into people as I kept my eyes glued to the ground. I was painfully aware of my proximity to so many people—it was inducing mild claustrophobia. I tried to pretend that it was just a dance club, where hearts were racing and everyone was pressed against each other in large confines…however that was failing—so I focused on the my uncomfortably soaked converse as we trudged to the back of the Hogwart's Express. Hermione was leading the pack, Ron in tow with her. Ginny and the twins had broken off to find friends. A shy, clumsy, introverted boy had noticed Harry and they were trailing closely behind us. I stood as straight as possible and followed Hermione's brisk pace, I thought of Esper, I focused on my waterlogged shoes…anything…anything to try to distract from his heartbeat.

There was something about Harry. It wasn't just that his wonderful fragrance burned my throat or boiled my blood. It wasn't that he kept quiet enough to keep me interested. It was his…his essence? Something made certain targets more appealing to vampires. Their blood, their company, their physical attractiveness- yes…but there was something more, an essence of sorts. Perhaps it could be defined as soul, but most vampires did not dabble in such thoughts, mostly because it was commonly believed that we did not have souls. I pushed that thought aside. I continued to follow Hermione to the back, and continued to ponder the effect Harry was having on me. I was drawn to him. Though it was difficult to be anywhere near him since I attacked him.

Shortly after I attacked him I was made aware of everyone's involvement in the Order of the Phoenix, though not everyone was directly involved. Basically, all of the adults were members, and none of the children were. Though the term "children" was an arbitrary label given to everyone that was still attending school, I did not mind. I had no intention of joining The Order. Members of the Order, however, made very obvious attempts to keep Harry away from me, or me away from Harry…_semantics_. In practice it was fairly effective. I learned nothing about him, we rarely talked, and I was still unsure whether he was fascinated by me or morbidly disgusted. I felt his eyes glued to me in painful silence whenever we were around each other—I responded with cold indifference. It was the only way to ignore that honey emanating from him: that wonderfully sweet smell that made my teeth ache and my body uncomfortable. Sometimes I wish I could dream, then I could blame my fantasies on an overactive subconscious rather than errant thoughts. Gravity seemed to pull towards him, in the short moments we were in the same room, and I found myself swept towards him—slowly, but very certainly.

I shook my head and took a deep breath. Hermione had finally found a compartment; she slid open the door and plopped onto the bench closest to the window—Ron quickly sat down next to her in what, I'm assuming, was an attempt at nonchalance. I followed suit of Hermione and took up residence across next to a window across from her. It would give me a distraction for the trip.

" 'Ey, Neville, I didn't notice you," Ron seemed to brighten up as he noticed the boy named Neville. Neville, glancing tensely at me, seemed relieved to take a seat next to Ron. They began to talk about Quidditch amongst themselves; something I had yet to try. A few moments later, however, my attention was rerouted. It was my turn to tense.

Harry was the last into the compartment and he slid the door closed as he entered. I snapped my head back out the window. I heard him sit down next to me on the bench seats. I let my face rest against the glass; it was cold; it was comforting. I gambled a glance towards Neville and Ron and noticed a toad sneaking its way out of his lap. I also noted the Crookshanks seemed undividedly interested in the toad's movements. _Speaking of comfort_. I remembered my purse that was tucked snuggly between me and the wall of the train. I slid it onto my lap and snapped it open. Esper lazily crawled out of the bag. She was so warm: it was so odd that I found something so warm so comforting; generally I associated warmth with that claustrophobic feeling that began to awake that burning in my throat, but not with Esper.

She stretched out like a cat and beat her wings a few times and began to hover. She brought herself over to Hermione and then dropped herself onto Crookshanks. It snuggled into Crookshanks' long fur and made a half-hearted bat at his nose. Crookshanks, however, was having none of it, and so Esper clumsily took flight again and this time, swept over towards Harry. While I was interested in watching what would happen, staring at Harry for any period longer than an instant lended itself to making my entire body uncomfortable. I became painfully aware of his presence.

Esper dropped herself onto his shoulder and nuzzled at his hair. I watched his eyes widen in surprise.

His hand reached up to reposition his hair, however in readjusting it I became aware of his fragrance wafting through the compartment. _This is going to be a long ride._ I pressed my body more firmly against the train, away from Harry, but I continued to stare. I noticed Esper make a contented purring noise as she began to bat playfully through his hair and at his glasses. He didn't make any move to stop her, and it wasn't long before Esper was gnawing contentedly on the glasses. He let out a small laugh. My breath hitched in my throat, as it always did when I heard his voice. It was an overwhelming representation of his pure and tempting essence, and it echoed in my ears. I now realized how much I wished I was able to be close to him. Wish that I was able to run my fingers through his hair, or nuzzle myself against his neck; to allow my hands to glide up his jaw and cheekbone and remove his glasses with one hand while absentmindedly running my fingers across his shoulders, or arms, or chest, or lips. _Perhaps in that order_. I tightened my lips into a straight line to prevent my teeth from baring. I tried to keep my eyes focused on Esper and what she was doing, but I my eyes kept pulling themselves to stare at his bare neck: pale, uncovered, and inviting. I imagined my lips touching it ever so gently and the quiet, wonderful noises he would make. I imagined him pressed up against the wall and—

A loud whistle rang from the front of the train and the Hogwart's Express lurched forward. _Bugger, only what…3 minutes? How am I supposed to make it through till evening?_

I tried to bring my mind to focus on the night when I _did_ have him pressed against the wall, when I could feel his blood pumping beneath my body. How soft his hair felt against my cheek and how amazing it smelled. My body began to grow tense and somewhat achy. I continued to think about that soft milky skin, how easy it would be to tear through. I allowed my stomach to turn over. That's what it had been like to have him nervously beneath me. _Ungodly tempting…_and the only way to satisfy it was to…I grimaced in disgust at myself.

Then I glanced back at Harry. He was slouched over, his arms resting on his knees, and his head resting in the palm of his hands. Esper had curled herself up on the back of his neck. I checked my restraint, and then slid over and removed my purring lump of fluff from his neck. He slowly eased straight. I brought my legs up onto the bench and leaned my back against the window. I crossed my legs, plopped Esper in my lap and stared at the compartment door.

"I do adore it," Harry said. My eyes shot back to his, though I made no show of emotion. "Your…Esper I think you call it. It's amazing." He gave a crooked smile that reminded me of the conversation at the pet shop. I stared into those wonderfully emerald eyes. They twinkled with a small fire—nothing harsh, something akin to candlelight, just a small burning, enough to see; enough to draw a moth.

"About time," I smirked. I brought Esper up to my face and planted a kiss on her black little nose. I repositioned my legs so that my I brought my knees almost up to my chest, and then placed Esper in the space between. I was again aware of my wet shoes, so I removed them and let them flop to the floor. I let out an edgy breath before allowing my eyes to flutter closed. _I can't sleep, but I can distract myself_. I used all of my energy to pull my focus away from my senses into my mind. In my mind I allowed music to float across my conscious. I nicely paced Piano Sonata. After it ended I chose another classical piece, then a Big Band piece, then some stringed pieces, then back to Classical piano. It was a habit I helped to cultivate when I needed to calm down: it mostly numbed my outer senses and allowed me to trot through my conscious. However, this afternoon I decided not to allow errant thoughts to come to life, so I just focused on the music. This helped me disappear into myself for a few hours.

I realized a hand was shaking me out of the trance a whimsical violin held me in. My eyes quivered open as I took in my surrounding. It was substantially darker than before. The hand that clung to my shoulder belonged to Hermione. Ron and Neville had fallen asleep, mouths agape, and heads tilted to either side. Then I noticed the pressure against my knees.

"It's getting dark," she nodded outside, "that means we'll be arriving soon. We should get changed and tell them to do the same." I glanced down at my knees, which were very much asleep, though I could still feel Harry reclining against them. His back was facing me, but I assumed he was asleep. His hair lay messily against the jeans I was wearing. I turned back to Hermione and silently nodded my head. I pulled my dead legs out from under Harry's weight and replaced them with my hands. My feet hit the ground harder than expected and it caused a bit of a startle, but everyone remained asleep. I tried to get my hands a better hold on Harry's well-sized shoulders, but it was difficult: he was heavier than I anticipated, and he was unconscious. _Though he's acting like he's dead- oh, for heaven's sake!_ As his head slumped to the side, his shoulder did too. Swiftly I slid my arm around his torso so that I could get a better hold to move him. I felt his sizeable hand grip my upper arm, which pulled my awkwardly down across his lap. I crooked my head towards Hermione. She looked thouroughly too bemused by my present state.

"I understand the hilarity of the situation," I loudly whispered, "but would you mind assisting me Miss Granger?" With a small smile on her face she acquiesced. After rearranging Harry, we grabbed our bags and headed for the door. My legs felt heavy, but pins pricked through them as they slowly started waking up. My feet felt cold, being bare against the floor. Hermione loudly cleared her throat. No response. She banged her foot loudly against the compartment. They started to stir…well except for Ron whose only response was to let out a snort.

"Honestly," She mumbled. "Wake up!" She screeched. It startled me a bit…and Esper wasn't too pleased either.

After finally waking up the boys, we headed to a lavatory to get changed. We were in separate stalls rustling out of and into clothing when she started, "That was cute."

"Hmm..?" I hummed back absentmindedly.

"Oh…just back there…with you and Harry…and well…" she began to become more flustered. I, however, was frozen in place.

"Excuse me?"

"Just..you know… you two…you're kinda… you're cute together, that's all."

Now generally statements like these are not made on their own. Girls do not ponder the cuteness of two people at random, well not usually. There has to be a basis for it—and my mind raced trying to identify that basis. _Well I did attack him_…but I quickly passed that thought and tried to recall any meaningful conversations or looks or action, but the more I tried to focus in on it, the further away it seemed to be.

"Elaborate," I commanded more than asked.

"It's just…oh you know…it's nothing…really," she sounded worried…and I wanted to know why.


	11. 11:Sorting Things Out

Unhallowed

Part 11

I was unsuccessful in getting Hermione to quit fumbling over her words. I decided to put the subject aside for the time being, and approach it later when she would be less suspecting.

Hermione had impeccable timing, because just as we returned to the cabin, the boys had finished dressing and the train was starting to slow to a stop. I looked at my sad wet shoes that sat on the floor and thought about the futility of drying them before going back out into the rain. I put them on wet. I also tucked Esper into my bag.

"So, do we go to our rooms after we arrive?" I asked

"No—we go straight to the Great Hall," Hermione responded as she scooped up Crookshanks.

"And…so…what do we do with our…um…various pets?"

"Oh, we'll put them with our things, and they'll make it up to the Common Rooms." She said nonchalantly. _Riigghht_…I glanced down into my bag. "Oh, and you can't keep that bag with you, they'll take it up to your room."

I couldn't contain a small laugh, "Funny…" but then I realized that she wasn't joking. _How do they tell all the stuff apart…whatever…magic. Magic explains everything…_ I reached into it and pulled out my wand to tuck into my robes. _At least robes are flow-y_. I yanked Esper out of my bag and placed her onto my shoulder.

"Genevieve, you can't—," Hermione started.

I yanked my hood over my head, concealing Esper, "Can't what?" I asked innocently. She shook her head and we headed out of the train.

The train arrived to the only all-wizard village in Britain: Hogsmeade, a picturesque little village of thatched cottages and shops. As a group, we made our way up the torch-lit paths to carriages that were carting students up to the castle. The rain had ceased falling, but the earth clung to my damp shoes. It was an uncomfortable feeling as we trudged towards the carriages. Many of them were already full. _Late to the train…late to the carriages…probably late to food. _All of them had at least some inhabitants, so we meandered until we came across one with only a single occupant. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look; a wand lay tucked behind her ear, her neck was adorned with a bottle cap necklace, and she appeared to reading a magazine upside-down. _Well perhaps I'll fit in here after all_.

Everyone lumbered into the carriage, except for Hermione and Harry who were having an argument. "They're pulling themselves like they do every year," Hermione finished before stomping on board. Harry followed, but he kept his eyes on the large horse pulling the carriage. Well, if you used the term "horse" loosely. It appeared to be a winged horse with a skeletal body, face with reptilian features, and wide, leathery wings that resemble a bat's. They were disturbing, but everyone else seemed to ignore them, so I decided to as well.

"I suppose it's better that they're not making you get wait with the first years for sorting," Ginny said.

"Right, sorting…what exactly do they do?"

Ron cracked a grin, "Well you see, it's really, really scary—and—,"

"Ronald!" Ginny snapped at her brother and shoved him roughly. "It's not bad really. You just get your name called, and a hat placed on your head, and it sorts you."

"Oh, I get my name called out loud," I rolled my eyes, "what an auspicious beginning." Silence descended over the carriage and everyone fidget uncomfortably. I felt Esper kneed her claws into the back of my neck. I twinged a little, but it passed.

"What is your name?" the petite oddity spoke. I considered for a moment.

"Sorry, I don't believe we met. What's your name?" I said as amiably as I could muster.

"Luna…Luna Lovegood, but I don't think I caught your name." She asked airily.

I leaned back in the carriage and exhaled, "Don't worry…you'll find out soon enough," but Luna hardly seemed bothered by this as she was staring, dreamily, in the distance as if bored.

The rest of the ride passed primarily in silence. Though Harry seemed perturbed by the hellish horse beasts the entire trip, no one else seemed to notice them. Everyone hopped out of the carriage one by one and placed the few possessions they had on hand into a very large pile of things. In front of the pile of belongings stooped a balding man with yellowed crooked teeth. He wore a baggy patched overcoat. At his feet stood his cat replica with bulging yellow, lamp-like eyes, a scrawny, skeletal body and dust-colored fur. He appeared to be making sure that everyone was relinquishing their possessions. Passing by him was a witch I recognized from the Order. I had only seen her once or twice, but she was distinctive. She was a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes with a very stern face. Some grey streaked her hair, which was pulled tightly into a bun. Her light green eyes were bespectacled, and unlike Dumbledore that seemed to harden her gaze, not soften it. She strode briskly towards us and stopped.

"Ms. Riddle?" She asked quickly. I nodded. "As I'm sure you're well aware, you must be sorted into a house before you can be seated for the feast. Since you have arrived before the first years, we would like to get you sorted and seated before they arrive." I calmed somewhat, but an entire new apprehension began to build inside me. I had never really considered getting sorted. The actual prospect of being placed in a house was frightening. There was a finality that loomed overheard in making such a decision.

"If you would just follow me please," McGonagall stated. A small part of me panicked, but I tried to force it away. I began to follow her, and then I paused after a few seconds.

"Ginny!" I called behind me, "What House is the worst at Quidditch?"

She scoffed, "Blimey! Slytherin of course—I don't think there's an ounce of skill on the whole team." It drew laughs from all the others. I nodded and turned back to continue following McGonagall.

The castle took my breath away. It was a large seven story building, with countless towers and turrets obviously supported by magic. The castle itself was built in the valley being surrounded by hills and mountains. We walked up the large lawn to the huge main oak front doors that stood ajar. I followed closely behind McGonagall as to not get lost; she kept a brisk paced as she led me to the Great Hall. It was aptly named.

We stopped briefly at the entrance. Only about half of the Hall was filled, but it was a magnificent site. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. The ceiling was velvety black and adorned with twinkling stars, though it was difficult to comprehend that it existed at all, except that the sky outside was heavily covered painted with clouds, and this sky was quite clear. It gave the impression of infinite space, it was glorious. The teachers table at the end of the hall was quite grand. The highlight of the table was the throne-like chair in the center of the table where Dumbledore was currently sitting. In front of the long table that the teachers were to feast at was a small wooden stool. It wasn't threatening, but a patched, weathered wizard's hat that lay slumped atop the stool.

"This way Miss Riddle," McGonagall said curtly. I nodded and followed her up to the stool. I didn't take note of any of the other staff except for Dumbledore; he leaned forward warmly and looked at me over his half-moon spectacles. I raised both my eye brows for an instant and then resumed my cool façade.

"If you'd just be seated here," McGonagall plucked up the hat. I turned to face the Great Hall and took a seat on the dumpy little stool. "If you'd just remove your hood please," she continued.

I clenched my jaw and gave a small nod. I slowly removed my hood, but kept it draped over Esper so that she would remain concealed. _At least she is here to go through this with me_. That instantly removed any trepidation I had been feeling. Then I felt the weather-beaten hat plopped atop my head. I crossed my legs and sat up straighter.

Then the voice came booming.

"Well I never thought I'd be placing another Riddle!" I winced as its throaty voice rattled over my brain. Based on everyone else's looks, either this was completely normal, or they couldn't hear it. _Hopefully the latter._

"Just as secretive as your father, are we? Yes…yes…"

"Bugger!" I couldn't help but let out as a gasp. No one had managed to get into my head since the first time it ever happened. My stomach knotted and I felt like tearing the hat off my head.

"Don't worry—your secrets are safe with me," I head it give a knowledgeable laugh. I grimaced and it continued. "You carry with you the same amount of ambition as your father, though you seem to have more heart…"

_Speaking of heart, I can bloody well feel it about to beat out of my chest_.

"Humor…and quite the intellect resides inside this head of yours. Many great witches and wizards would be jealous of the talents you keep hidden in here," the hat continued to ponder. "Ravenclaw?—No…your knowledge isn't an end, it's a means…"

_Obviously. Power is never an end; it's always a means to something else._

"Your aloof disguise won't fool me. I see what you see. Gryffindor perhaps?"

Images of Harry flickered across my brain and I wondered if I'd be able to stay away from him while he was that tantalizingly close…

_but do I want him far away?_

"Torn between what you want and what you might become….a fair battle to fight. It's something everyone must go through."

I let out a hollow laugh. _But are lives always the risks?_

"Always," The hat replied shortly, "it's not the challenge; it's how you approach it. Will you approach it as a scholar, as one in solitude, or surreptitiously?"

_All of those…probably…hopefully not though…but that's the truth of my situation. _

"And in accepting what you believe as truth, you create your own truth."

My heart beat heavily in my chest. I tried to take a calming breath, but only managed a choked shallow gasp. My chest tightened and I allowed my eyes to close to face whatever was about to come. The darkest part of me was hoping for Gryffindor, simply to be close to Harry while he slept. To have him around when I was in control, or when I wasn't. Three years, should I set myself up for failure or not. The ambivalent part of me—the masochistic ambivalent part of me—briefly thought of Draco. Silence fell over my mind followed by a ringing in my ears as the hat called out.

"Slytherin!" the voice boomed.

The process had taken probably twenty seconds. I let out a breath. It's what I had been expecting. _I create my own truth_. My eyes scanned the hall and I found the table beneath the banners of green and silver. I glanced at McGonagall and she nodded. I headed over to the table, which remained mostly empty and I took a seat. Covertly I swept Esper from behind my neck to my lap. She purred contentedly, it seemed to wash over me.

_It's not as if this defines me. It challenges me. It's not as if this prevents friendships, they're just grow more robust because of the difficult climate_.

It was the right choice. I'd be surrounded by witches and wizards who would fail to tempt my bloodlust. It would allow me some amount of security. _And give me a shot at Quidditch_. It made me smile. The thought of flying through the air: spinning, diving, climbing, turning, falling—sounded exhilarating. A smile crept across my face. I pet Esper contentedly.

The Hall began to fill up quickly with black robes. It was odd to see the range of ages, from child to adult sharing the same four tables. There were so many people it was difficult to find anyone, but luckily the Weasley's sat together and I was able to land eyes on them. I noticed Hermione staring at me despondently. An errant thought flickered through my brain about going over and sitting with them. I wasn't dressed in colors yet, so it wouldn't really matter—but it seemed disrespectful. I gave a nod and a small smile. She seemed somewhat reassured, but still dejected. I panned my head around the room; it was probably ¾ of the way full. I continued to take in the glittering magic of the scene until I noticed someone take a seat on my left. I glanced over to see Draco's cold demeanor replaced with an unfamiliar smile playing at his lips.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said.

"I believe the pleasure is all mine," he began to look far too smug. "You'll look nice in silver."

"I prefer a warmer color…red is quite nice."

He bowed his head in acquiescence, "but not that muddled color they use."

"So aren't we looking Gucci this evening," I bantered. He arched an eyebrow. Not in the mood to explain muggle terms to a muggle-hater I shook my head, indicating a change of subject.

"I know what it means, even _we _have to go out in public," he drawled, "but speaking of class, it appears the Weasley's have managed to scrounge some galleons and purchase proper clothes—barely." _As if we were even going to bond about something as petty as this._

"Are you insinuating I have poor taste?" I snapped, and before he could cut in I continued, "What happened to you? Do you think acting this way makes you any better? Did you hand pick your parents? It has nothing to do with taste. It's not what you're given; it's how you choose to approach it." He was silenced, "And you," I sneered, "are showing your distinct lack of taste with the words you are using." Any warmth in his face disappeared.

"I'd never insinuate poor taste on your part," he murmured. I nodded. Where my father used calculated actions to get witches and wizards to adore him, I did so naturally. And where my father was naturally cruel, I was cruel through calculated action. _Semantics or an important distinction?_ I mused on the subject for a while as the Hall finished filling. The doors were closed and chatter overtook much of the room. _Great…cocktail hour…I hate small talk._

I glanced around the table. No one had taken up residence to my right side, though several people had hurried to sit next to, and across from, Draco. Most notably a fairly thick looking pair of boys. I exhaled out a laugh under my breath. _Like a pair of henchmen. Stupid, large, and expendable—but effective. That should be a label._

Draco, however, seemed purposefully disinterested in whatever conversations were taking place. I had expected girls to be flocking around Draco this evening, but then I noticed why they weren't. Further down the table was a handsome boy surrounded by several young witches. Though they seemed to swoon at his every movement, he seemed as disinterested as a proper Slytherin would. He raked his dark eyes over them in a state of utter boredom and responded occasionally to the barrage of questions they asked. While his distance seemed daring and his boredom seemed welcoming, Draco's distance seemed cold and his distance seemed cruel. It panged me a bit, but then I was quick to recall his condescending comment earlier.

"So I see you've already taken to breaking the rules," Draco drawled. I pulled my eyes back to him.

"Hmm?"

His eyes darted to my lap, and I understood his meaning. A small smile befell my lips. "I'm fairly certain that thing isn't a student, nor is it on the menu."

"It's practically part of me; not inviting it to dinner would be tantamount to starving myself."

"And you still haven't given up exploiting logical fallacies," he mused.

"Using them isn't exploitation. They're created for a reason, if I didn't use them I—,"

"Oh, I'm sure something ridiculous would happen, or that's what you're going to argue none-the-less. Yes?" Draco rolled his eyes as he asked. I smiled.

"And you still know me too well." Just as banter was becoming entertaining the Great Hall reopened and in filed a barrage of first years. McGonagall walked briskly, seemingly impatiently, forward. Silence began to descend over the hall.

The sorting began.

It was long and monotonous. You had to pay just enough attention to clap at the edition of a new student to your current house. Ravenclaw was reserved, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were exuberant, and Slytherin was lazy.

_For being a house that supposed to contain the motivated—oh wait, right…most of them are only interested in themselves. Like "every man for himself,"… just all the time_.

After what seemed like an eternity, the last first year was sorted and Dumbledore stood, looked around dramatically, smiled, and clapped his hands.

Food suddenly appeared in generous quantities across every table and juice filled all of the goblets. Thirsty I began to drink. It was sweet, but refreshing. Pies, puddings, tarts, meats, and soups dispersed across the table. The clinking of plates and utensils reverberated through the hall, as did boisterous laughter and the muted roar of a countless number of conversations beginning at once. It was loud to say the least.

I followed Draco's lead and put small quantities of each dish on my plate, and I ate. I occasionally slipped pieces of pies and wedges of fruit into my lap. Esper seemed pleased and Draco seemed bemused.

Eventually, as everyone became visibly less ravenous, the eating died down, as did talking. Many students were looking keenly up at Dumbledore. As if on cue, he stood again, clapping his hands, this time clearing the table of the remaining food. I sipped at the juice that remained in my goblet. He stepped forward and began a speech. However, before he made it to the end, a short witch wearing a fluffy pink cardigan with an even fluffier bow a top her head, interrupted the Head Master. Based on the very awkward tension that washed the hall, and the nasty looks that many of the faculty began shooting at the pudgy witch—I guessed this was not normal, nor particularly polite…_A lot of that going on this evening. _Her pursed, sickly sweet demeanor nauseated me; the bow that topped her head gave the impression of a disgustingly large fly perched atop an even more repulsive toad. _Oh toady- _I laughed inwardly.

Then, as if to prove things couldn't get worse—Toady's speech began. It started painfully awkward, progressed to painfully annoying and ended horrendously.

"Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be... prohibited!" Toady finished a bit too enthusiastically. Sparse clapping ensued. I couldn't identify if the revulsion of the speech was from her dress, her demeanor, her voice, or her message. I decided that it was a culmination of all those things. I thought back to the papers from over the summer and I easily placed the dumpy creature that stood before the hall so boldly. Dolores Umbridge…definitely not a fan of half-breeds. I was surprised I was attending this school at all if she had any say about it, but with a headmaster like Dumbledore, she probably didn't. _Toady and I will get along nicely. Or not nicely, but that will be nicely as well. _I smirked.

The speeches ended and the Great Hall began to empty; slowly at first, as the first-years were herded out, but then more swiftly.

"So are you going to sit here all night, or are you going to the dungeon?" Draco inquired.

I arched an eyebrow, "I plan on going to my room, don't tell me—oh, you are kidding me. That's a joke right? A not funny—you aren't kidding…" I took a breath and collected my thoughts that were pouring carelessly from my lips. I brought my hands to my face and rubbed it tensely and then snapped them away, as if to wipe away my frustration. _Of course the Slytherin common room is in a dungeon. It could be in one of the 4,000 towers—but nope. Dungeon is definitely the more scenic route. _

"Yeah I suppose I'll get going there…" I paused for a moment. "Wherever there is," I stood and picked up Esper, not so stealthily.

Draco stood as well, "I'd be glad to show you, if you'd allow me?" I tucked Esper under my arm and nodded in compliance. I glanced towards the Gryffindor table, however it seemed everyone else had left. _Perhaps keeping up friendships in different houses will be trickier than I thought_.

Draco led me out of the Great Hall. We meandered through halls that were progressively more empty. We bantered a bit about professors and classes. As we descended into the castle, it became progressively colder. I placed Esper onto the ground and thanked myself for choosing the coldest place in the Castle: it would be comforting. I paused for a moment and allowed myself to lean against the cold brick, first just a shoulder, but then I rolled to allow my entire back to press against it. It put me at ease. Draco turned to face me.

"Comfortable?" he mocked as he turned to face me. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold brick as well; I nodded. I thought of the tension since I moved to Grimmauld Place. Of today: it was entirely too long. Sitting on the train was too long, sorting was too long, Toady's speech was too long, and this walk to the Dungeons was far too long.

"I suppose I'll have to get used to walking," I mumbled. I could fall asleep standing, the cold was so comfortable. However a small part of my brain became aware of Draco stepping towards me. My eyes fluttered open. He stood only a few inches away from my face. I tried to ignore his proximity, and continued, "how are you supposed to get to all your classes on time?" I mumbled.

Draco gave a small nod of his head, that jostled his hair ever so slightly. "You don't," he murmured, easing closer, "you run."

"Mmm," I gave a small nod. Lazily he pressed him palm against the brick wall on one side of my head. I took a small breath. I became painfully aware of all the small details, like the light cologne that clung to his well-tailored clothes. It seemed out of place, but probably a calculated choice. I noticed the gentle articulation of his hair as it fell slightly in front of his face. I was aware of his piercing grey eyes. They were hypnotic. They weren't warm, but they were beautiful. The distance in them created an enthralling aesthetic. He stared and I couldn't help but stare back. As he stared I slowly became aware of other details: his supple, though almost translucent skin that craved for daylight, his strong cheekbones and attractive jawline. Lastly, I became aware of his thin pink lips that were slightly parted, rather than pursed.

We perhaps stood there for moments, or minutes, but I couldn't bring my gaze away from his. It was like staring into his soul. His desolate, icy, beautiful soul. I slowly became aware of the distance, or lack of, between us. Both his palms were now pressed against the wall on either side of my head, and his chest was almost pressed against mine. I took a deep breath and suddenly can place the cologne. It is the kind of memory that transports you back almost instantly, but I couldn't allow myself to be transported, because I was so affixed to Draco's eyes. They held me in place. I wanted to pull away from his mesmerizing presence, but at the same time I never wanted to leave. I wanted to study it and understand it. I willed my eyes to flutter closed and I slowly exhaled.

My breathing was interrupted by the sudden presence of warm lips against my own. I didn't move, but the lips continued to move against my own. They were firm and warm against my own. Accompanying them was pressure as I felt Draco press his torso against my own. I was pinned beneath him against the wall and I became aware of another detail, the height he held over me. I felt one of his hand slip behind my neck to croon it upwards. His long slender fingers wrapped themselves delicately around the back of my neck as my held tilted upward so that my lips formed to his more easily. His lips moved slowly against my own. Reserved. Then, as my head turned, I felt his lips open, and I parted mine in unison. He pressed me more firmly against the wall and entangled his fingers firmly into my hair. I enjoyed the moist warmth the open mouthed kissed entailed, and then his tongue darted into my mouth. It was agile, but careful. It played lightly with my own. My hand pulled away from the wall and slowly ran its way up his chest. It caressed the soft material that clung to his body. Then my fingers snaked their way up to his neck. My fingers traced across his jaw as he deepened the kiss, and the came to rest on his neck just below his ear. I could feel his heart racing beneath the slow but fervent kiss. Paired with his warm tongue darting around my mouth I felt a heat grow at the back of my throat. I moaned into his mouth, but instantly realized my mistake. The small distance and reserve in the kiss was removed as Draco's other hand slid down to my leg and slowly hitched it around his waist as he furthered pressed me into the wall. I longed so much for the closeness, but…I moaned again and started to become aware of my arousal. I would have pulled my head away from his, but it was held firmly in place by his lips and the wall. I used all of my will to slide my hand away from the artery at his neck and to slide it down to his chest. I slowly, but firmly pushed him away from myself. We continued kissing, but after a few moments I managed to get unpinned from the wall. His hands still on me, I pulled my lips away from his and I opened my eyes.

"So…you seemed to handle that well enough," he said quietly, still caressing my neck and waist with his hands.

I gave a slight nod in agreement, "Draco…I…" I paused…I didn't know how to word it, "I—only you can…" I gave out a sigh, "I can't solve your—."

"You don't need to solve anything of mine," he cut off, staring at me again with those desolate, fascinating eyes.

"Not publicly—I mean…Draco—can we at least try to have a normal friendship? We have barely seen each other in five years. Perhaps it's better if we just…wait." I finished. _No! NO! NEVER, NOT AT ALL! Just tell him the truth. This isn't going to work, ever. Not then, not now, not ever. He needed to own up and manage his own problems before trying to drag anyone else into that!_

I shook my conscience aside with a shrug.

Pulling away from me Draco gave a small nod. _Set the boundaries now—now while…while they're only sort of broken…_frustration washed over me, and guilt. I desired physical closeness just as much as he did, but I didn't want to ruin the only friendship I currently had, and I knew that...that…_that I wanted Harry far too much to have an honest relationship with Draco…yes…that._

Silently, Draco escorted me the rest of the way to the dungeons.


	12. 12: Enter the Dungeon

Unhallowed

Part 12

The dungeons emanated cold. Perhaps that or they simply devoured heat. Everything was stone: the floor, the walls, the delicate reliefs that detailed the walls; sculptures were placed strategically to seem as pillars. What appeared to be windows were delicately placed throughout the room; they were tall and what appeared to be gothic design, and though they were too murky to see through, they were enchanted to give off light into the other side, revealing that the dungeon extended partway into the Black Lake. Oil lanterns hung randomly from the ceiling, at differing heights and differing intervals; they were coated with black soot, as was the stone ceiling above them. They emanated green light, which furthered the submersed effect created by the windows. The stone grey walls, so elaborately decorated, were each adorned with a vastly sized fireplace. Sitting before each fire was a sizeable black leather couch, large enough was each that could hold fifteen students easily. Scattered throughout the room were cozy dark wood tables surrounded by plush chairs, in varying gemstone shades. Needless to say the main subject of décor was the serpent in varying forms. Some large, some small, some with fangs bared, some coiled. They were carved into everything that you almost forgot they were snakes. Several hybrids also were the subject of design, including serpentine dragons and spirits.

Precariously near each fireplace towered bookshelves that were stuffed with weathered copies of mismatched collections of text. Though the ceiling was arguable low compared to the rest of the castle, it was not less than 10 meters tall, and the bookshelves used all thirty feet allotted to them. Each bookshelf was adorned with a ladder to allow access.

The right facing wall of the common room led towards two passages, one for male and one for female. The male hallway- or tunnel, rather—was adorned with a deep emerald rug, glittering lights that emanated a foamy sea green across the walls, and of course the walls themselves were adorned with wizards. Peaking down the tunnel revealed a heavy black curtain that was drawn open slightly, however five feet further ones vision was thwarted by a deep emerald curtain: probably velvet by the way the light glittered upon it.

The witches' tunnel was similar, though instead of the house colors, varying shades of rose and purple rolled down the hallway. A plush rug or the deepest purple clutched to the floor, while small orbs of rose light fluttered about the ceiling of the tunnel. The walls were adorned in portraits of countless witches, and the end view at the end of the hallway was limited by similar velvet curtains, only this time in shades of lilacs, roses, and royal purples.

I found myself enthralled by the grandeur and posh of dungeon. I made my way down the effeminate hallway, which gave off the subtle smell of cherry blossom. I brushed the heavy velvet aside stepping into what was apparently a sub-common room, for witches only. The room was round, but five stories tall. A staircase rounded the outer part of the room in an upward spiral that only flattened out at the door of each floor. The effect was that of a Victorian tea room, the room was snug, to say the least. Small round rugs were delicately placed across the floors. All of the furniture was varying gemstone shades, primarily deep ruby, amethyst, and emerald hues. It was overstuffed, and looked extraordinarily soft. Accompanying each overstuff piece of furniture was a heavy looking stone end table, or coffee table. The stone tables were carved exquisitely and the legs of the tables were inlayed with various precious materials, from lapis to moonstone. The walls inside were not adorned with portraits, but instead hung with generous amounts of heavy fabric that glistened at the rosy candlelight of the room.

I began to ascend the stairs. Esper hopped along beside my feet. At each brief flat, a heavy stone door stood. The stone was cumbersomely decorated from top to bottom. The center of each door was lavished with gold leafing naming the students years that resided there.

The first floor was simply a lounge. The first door (on the second floor) was for 1st and 2nd years. The second door (on the third floor) was for 3rd and 4th years. The third door (fourth floor) was for 5th and 6th years. The fourth and final door (on the fifth floor) was for seventh years only. After making it all the way to the top of the stairs, I returned back to the door specified for 5th and 6th years. I stared at it puzzled for a few moments. There was no obvious way to enter, the stone block seemed solid. Esper batted at the stone relief a few times and growled. She was grouchy and tired. Though I had been feeling mentally drained from the today's excursions, physical tiredness was never really a problem. The marvel and gaiety I felt at the décor in the Slytherin dungeons, however, soothed over my mental strain. It was returning slowly though, as I stared dumfounded at the door.

"Open?" I mumbled ridiculously to myself. Nothing happened. Esper continued to attack it hopelessly, which was cute, though not gaining us entry. I glanced around to see if anyone else was entering their dormitories, but I found the sub-common room unfortunately barren. _You'd think they'd be partying the first night back_. I sighed frustrated and leaned against the wall. I glanced down at Esper who was agitatedly scratching the stone with her claws. I straightened up and decided to do what I hadn't yet: I touched the wall with my hand. Immediately a crack formed in the center of the door, and almost instantly the two halves of the great stone slab were silently racing away from each other and disappearing into the walls.

Slowly I eased myself into the next room. Progressing through the dungeon I noticed a theme, it was getting darker and darker. The common room was well lit: the witches' common room was lazily lit, and here was decently shadowed. The room was shaped like a large hallway. Large four-poster bed lined both the left and right walls. Beneath each bed was a very fluffy carpet, though they came in differing tones. To the right of each bed was a table, and to the left was a tall bookcase. It was obvious this was where items for display would be placed. At the foot of each bed was tall hard wood wardrobe that was the width of the entire bed, and at the foot of each wardrobe were each occupant's possessions. I was grateful to find that my possessions were at the foot of wardrobe in the far back of the room. It was the last bed on the left. I picked up Esper and threw her onto the ungodly soft bed. Each was large enough for several people, which allowed roll-around space. Atop the heavily embroidered comforters lay my uniform. Several ties, a cloak in Slytherin's colors, scarves, pleated skirts, etc. Surrounding each bed were blackout curtains: on the outside they appeared to varying colors of a felt-like material, the inside of the curtains were lined with deep-hued satin and lace.

I said hello to a few of the other witches, and lazily began to unpack. I enchanted my school bag with a Lightness Charm, ensuring that my shoulders wouldn't buckle under the heavy load of all that I had to cram into that poor bag. Hopefully its seams would hold. I tucked clothing into the wardrobe, placed books on the bookshelf, and gathered toiletries atop the stone bed-side table.

After finishing I looked around the room and noticed something else. Across from my bed I noticed a very ornate, very large, stained glass door. It pictured a mermaid at rest amongst seaweed, water around her, and delicate petals of rare flowers cascade down around her as she rested. I opened the door and stepped in. The room was also hewn in stone, but instead of the dreary grey that filled the rest of the dungeon, it was hewn in white sandy marble. It positively glowed. Light emanated through murky glass to softly diffuse and brighten the glittering marble. The room was semi divided in half. The closest half to the door consisted of toilet stalls along the wall and a large circular sink; and it was a large collection of sinks indeed. It probably had 12 basins all the way round and above each marble basin was a fantastically tall mirror, which helped to further diffuse the lighting through the room. The other half of the room was for bathing. The far wall was occupied by three unnecessarily large bathes, which would have passed as small pools. You had to use a small set of stairs to get inside. There was also what appeared to be several snail style showers. I peaked in one to note that it contained a small marble bench and some handholds. And lastly, the bathing side of the room contained a small sauna.

I recall Hermione, Harry, Ron, etc. talking about how simply awesome Hogwarts was; but I had a sneaking suspicion that the Slytherin dormitories were a bit more grandiose than the others. I suppose it meshed with their mentality after all. Lush extravagance- ease and creature comforts. My stomach turned a bit. Though I could appreciate the glorious aesthetic the entire dungeon offered, petting your lusty need of creature comforts with such extravagance just seemed like a dangerous habit: or at least it was for me…or rather for people around me… I shook the feeling off and went back to the bedroom area. _How much I would give to sleep in that ungodly soft bed_. Students were required to be back in dormitories by 9pm each night, and not allowed to leave until 5am the next morning. _8 hours. 8 hours. 8 hours…every night…for the entire year. Oh yeah…this is going to be a long year. _I decided that the only thing that would help to alleviate such boredom would be to explore…and to figure out what to do with all that extra time. I supposed it could be spent writing, as usual. However, I generally interrupted such things with my regular excursions, for coffee, for tea, for dancing, etc. Night or day—sitting around gets boring.

I switched out my standard black robe, donned a softer, and pleasantly hued robe. I tucked my wand into my cloak. Though I didn't use it often, Severus reminded me that wandless magic was dark magic, and would not be tolerated at Hogwarts. That if I were to use wandless magic, I should at least accompany the spell with a passing of my wand, to make the act more believable. _Tedium_. Though I understood the concern that Severus showed. He was the only one that was aware of my ability that I partially inherited from my father, and mostly from my mother. Wandless magic isn't useful for casting complex spells or enchantments; it is used primarily to interact with your environment for fluidly. For instance, summoning something is difficult, however levitating an object is not. Transfiguring an object was difficult, but simply distorting its form or twisting its shape was not. Also it made it easy to pull people towards you, to steal objects, or to destroy things. Vampire strength, for instance, isn't purely stamina or raw power, but relies heavily on the vampire's ability to be able to fluidly manipulate their environment. Crushing a piece of stone in hand isn't generally done from raw power, but from manipulating the stone magically while wrapping your fingers around it. Like a magic trick, only the magic was real. As one does not need to think about breathing, a vampire needn't think about handling an object at a distance. For instance the wet shoes that sat on the floor. Drying them was a fundamentally simple task. Simply removing water and placing it somewhere else. I picked them up and they began to steam. After a few moment warm dry shoes sat in my hands. _Simple._ I smiled to myself.

I noted that Esper was already fast asleep at the center of the bed. _At least someone is making use of it…_I was almost jealous. I suppose I would be doing a lot of reading in it. Though there were the countless overstuff chairs I wanted to try out…and then there was the library that I hadn't even seen yet.

_Three years_…it hardly seemed like enough time to enjoy everything the castle had to offer. However, tonight I would start with just the Slytherin common room.

I spent the evening lounging in chair, turning the pages of various books (lazily, like a proper Slytherin), sitting in various overstuff chairs, sipping at the various juice and water that was left in scattered pitchers and goblets. I spent the evening inspecting the stone reliefs that decorated the walls. Few told stories, most were purely decoration. I made note that the only stone door I could open was the one for 5th and 6th years. When I was sure most everyone was asleep I attempted to sneak down the wizard's tunnel, but found that the soft velvet curtain would not yield to me. So I walked back down the hall as the portraits snoozed. I sat before the crackling fire and enjoyed the warmth it gave off. The coldest part of the night was about 2 am. Getting close to 3 am it started getting warm again. As morning approached I decided to take advantage of the sumptuous showers.

I bathed and changed and skimmed through school books till morning. At best the books were wildly entertaining, though they failed to teach me anything I didn't already know; at worst the text was dry, barren of interest, and almost devoid of scholarly merit. I noticed this particularly when dealing with the Defense Against the Dark Arts book. _With instructions like this, you're unlikely to recognize a human being, let alone anything remotely terrifying—including half breeds…guess I'm safer than I thought. _


	13. 13: Morning Classes

Unhallowed

Part 13

The morning finally arrived, and I promptly departed the dungeon at 5am. Esper had woken up about an hour before I decided to leave, and wouldn't allow me to abandon her in the lewdly giant dungeon. _Claustraphobia…doubt it._ I thought about the consequences of keeping her with me all day, but realized the only food I had for her was waiting in the Dining Hall with mine…

"You better be good today..." I warned…_Not that you're not always behaved…_ "It's going to be a long day, and so you can't get restless." As if acquiescing, Esper rubbed her head into my hand and cooed lightly. Any reserve I held melted. "Can you stay in my bag today? I'd rather not wear my hood today…" I opened my bag invitingly and she hopped inside, curling into a ball of contented fuzz. _Cutest. Thing. Ever._ I slung the bag over my shoulder and made my way down to get food.

The Great Hall was much less lavishly decorated this morning, although it still possessed its grandeur. _It'd probably maintain that even if it lay in ruin_. Stars still sparkled overhead, so it was still quite early in the morning; the tables were sparsely laden with goblets and plates. Only two teachers were dining at such an early hour, and apparently no other students had made it down yet. I took my seat at the Slytherin table and grabbed a few breakfast pastries and few pieces of juicy fruit. I pulled out the book I had been reading for class and propped it open on the table as I nibbled at pastries and sipped from my goblet. Esper growled a few times and I obliged her with generous servings of food. I also grabbed another goblet and filled it with water and allowed her to drink. Not the most subtle thing, but there was not really anyone around to notice. Stars began to fade, and the ceiling seemingly began to materialize over the course of fifteen minutes.

It was seven before tired looking students began trudging in for breakfast. Severus also entered the hall holding a thick stack of parchment. Nothing ever seemed to change about him: his skin just as waxen, his eyes just as dark, and his hair just as lank; all the same as it ever was. He approached and crisply presented a piece of parchment he quickly procured from the stack.

"I had a feeling you'd be up early," he mused."Your schedule Miss Riddle," he said with a small nod. I tried to manage a small smile and accepted the rectangular piece of parchment. "Try to make it to your classes on time," he finished coolly before turning abruptly and walking away.

I glanced down at the stiff parchment; my schedule was scrawled across it in a neat script. Each day consisted of six periods, though the bulk of the classes were on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Potions was a greedy bastard that meant for a period on Monday and then almost all day Thursday. _Fucking seriously…I know that shit is slow…but…_I groaned inwardly. I enjoyed Potions. I truly did. However, even for me, almost 5 hours of class was pushing it. Blessedly, however, it started at 8 am and was out by 1pm. _Thank the creator for little things. _The rest of the schedule followed thusly:

**Monday****: History of Magic [1], Potions [2], Ancient Runes [3], *Open*[4], Defense Against the Dark Arts [5-6].**

**Tuesday****: Charms [1-2], Transfiguration [3-4], Care of Magical Creatures [5], Herbology [6].**

**Wednesday****: Arithmancy [1-2], Transfiguration [3], Herbology [4-5], Care of Magical Creatures [6]**

**Thursday****: Potions [1-3] **

_Seriously….seriously?_ Each period was an hour and half. _THAT'S FOUR AND HALF HOURS OF POTIONS_...I took a deep breath…I'm sure it will end up being quite enjoyable. Or that's what I decided to convince myself.

I made it to my first class of the day. It was Slytherin and Gryffindor. A witch, who introduced herself as Pansy Parkinson, indicated that most of Slytherin's classes tended to coincide with Gryffindor. _Friendship Score!_ I took a seat next to Hermione who was one of the first people to class. My excitement quickly waned after class began.

_Oh bugger, class… this class_. History of magic…there was nothing magical about it. While the text told exhilarating narratives of enthralling stories filled with character and gusto—the teacher did not. The teacher was a ghost. A GHOST…a ghost that droned on and on in a monotone…and on and on and bloody on. There was NOTHING magical about the class. I felt like an hour and half of my life had been sucked irrevocably into some pitiless hole, and I wanted it back. Of course the single book that offered character and promise—was ruined by the driest professor in all of existence. AND HE WAS A GHOST. _I cannot overstate this statement of truth. This class should resemble a performing arts class more than a cemetery_. That's exactly what it was. A mausoleum, a room filled with the snoozing dead, and a ghost to top it off. I would have been sleeping too if it was possible. Instead I was bound to the realm of consciousness with Hermione. She seemed promisingly eager, and occasionally raised her hand. _But ohhhhhh, was it in vain…vain vain vain. _After a few minutes of practically boiling out of her chair, with no acknowledgement, her trembling hand would lower and she'd glance at me. I arched an eyebrow at her and she began to scrawl feverishly onto a spare bit of parchment: always something about the inconsistency of some historical narrative, or disappearance of some sundry fact. In response I always scribbled down the title of some miscellaneous book that contained what she was looking for and slid the parchment back towards her. This went on several times through the seemingly endless hour and half. I grew bemused. I was curious to know whether or not she would collect all of the texts that I recommended. _Probably_. For someone who has had probably about 8 hours less per day than I have for fifteen years—I paused to do the math. _I've got about 5 years on you_. I smirked, because she'd never catch up, I'd always have extra time. _Unfortunately this class is a sink of time….goddamn uninteresting blighter. _

At the end of class Hermione jumped up and escorted me to Potions. Fortunately in potions, however, we worked alone. Worrying about someone screwing up your carefully mastered potion would be beyond irritating. _And being a master at manipulation…_I smiled at Hermione widely.

"What?" She asked confused.

"I just think I'm going to be really good at this," the smirk oozed into my voice.

"But you've never even done this before," she insisted slightly annoyed. _I've just read about a hundred books on the subject_. I just nodded my head and dropped the subject. Slowly people began filing into the classroom. Though the polarization between the houses had been less obvious when everyone was in a catatonic state—it became painfully obvious as students had to bustle around each other to set up their cauldrons etc. After Hermione and I had set up our respective apparatuses, Harry and Ron trudged in, still half asleep, and began to set up their things across the table from us. I noticed Hermione blush as Ron smiled awkwardly at her. Our choice of table, however, drew the lines of everyone else as they entered: rigidly. Slytherin occupied one half of the room, Gryffindor the other half…except for me. It didn't bother me at first until I noticed the stares from both sides looking at the color of my skirt and tie. I shrugged it off and gave Hermione a pained smile as we awaited the start of class.

The dungeon doors to the potions class slammed open, and Severus strode in heatedly. He began lecturing almost immediately. His grasp of potion making was…moving…beautiful yet tragic. An art form he mastered, perfected, and held indifference towards. He taught thoroughly, though a tad quickly. It was tiresome to scrawl notes, so I simply listened. He quickly pushed through an entire lecture's material in a matter of 15 minutes. I enjoyed the challenge it presented, Hermione was flustered, and the rest of the class appeared as lost as humanly possible. I don't think some of them realized that they were in Potions class. Then potion making began.

They were going to be making a Black-Flame potion, also known as the Ice potion. The potion allows the drinker to move through Black flames unscathed, and gave the effect of ice flooding the body. Hermione's eyes bulged. She seemed to recognize it description. _Of course he would assign us something that was dastardly tedious to make_. The entire potion process, done correctly, would take precisely one hour. That left 15 minutes of prep time. I opened the Potions manual to page 548. _Of course it's so far back. _I tightened my lips. Not enough time to complain. I quickly darted to gather up ingredients before almost anyone else finished the list. Almost, because Hermione was right behind me. She seemed to understand the time constraints. In potions a steady hand was nice, but having an internal clock was indisputably the key to success.

I began chopping, mincing, slicing, pressing, mixing. The final potion was supposed to be a canary yellow substance that was lighter than water. _A fiery liquid_. I fudged a bit on the ingredients it called for. The book had this horrible tendency to round off necessary ingredients. It would call for 4 beetle wings, when only 3 and half were necessary. About 45 minutes into the venture it became obvious how unsuccessful the class had been. One student's cauldron began emanating a greenish hazy gas and three nearby students fell to the floor. One cauldron began to bubble and sizzle away as a viscous material ate its way through. It looked like translucent brown putty and it continued to eat its way through the tabletop. Severus…or Professor Snape as I was supposed to be calling him, bustled around handily dealing with problems as they arose, which they did often. When he was not, he stood perched in the corner of the room, arms crossed coldly as he glared across the classroom. _Sadist_. A passing thought. He seemed annoyed by the failings of his students, but seemed to gain some strange pleasure from it. I slowly scraped the bezoar that I had ground into a powder [not an easy task], into the misty blue liquid that swirled around my cauldron. Each step increased the trepidation I felt. No wonder so many students failed.

The book itself failed to give the students information about what the potion should resemble at intermediate steps…it also failed to mention that, if— you know, your potion began to resemble perhaps, say, translucent brown putty, you don't let that shit touch you. Shaking away my annoyances at the book, I had to continue shaking my head at annoyances with Hermione. For instance, she insisted on listening to the book like it was gospel, rather than listening to common sense, it was grating against my brain. _GAH—don't add that much root of asphodel when you only need to powder ONE bezoar!_ I tried to kick these annoyances aside; I needed to concentrate on my own potion. 55 minutes into the potion making process and my potion finally resembled the fiery honey mixture it was supposed to be. I was concerned about its consistency, but there was still five minutes of stirring left. Hermione's was definitely runner up, but our potions were not twins…they could hardly be called second cousins once removed. Her liquid frothed a bit, and had an orange tint to it.

Ron had simply given up, and was stirring lazily at the condensed green muck that clung to his cauldron. I twirled my silver spoon through the mixture at a very precise, but slow, pace. It was aggravating—I wanted to beat it like eggs to hurry it up, but that would probably only result in an explosion…like the one that had emanated for Pansy's cauldron. My eyes began to wander in the last five minutes and came to rest on the cauldron across from mine: Harry's. I couldn't help but laugh. Unlike Ron, Harry was sticking it out to the very end…stirring his condensed green muck with hope…or determination. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over Harry. Luckily the air was condensed with alchemical ingredients, that my nostril felt like pins were pricking them every time I inhaled too deeply…so I could simplyenjoy staring… _wait..staring.. something..not…hmm…. oh..mmm_. My thoughts failed to flow coherently and I found myself eyeing Harry. His emerald eyes burned with intensity as he kept glaring between the book and his cauldron. His hair was messy, though I found it delightful—it had quite effect on my self-control. I wanted nothing more than to run my finger through it. It matched so well with his skin, which practically glowed with a healthy light. My eyes hazed over a bit as focused on his pale, taut, skin. As I absentmindedly continued stirring my mind began to grow wonder how his warm skin would feel against my lips…my teeth…the wonderful feeling of leaving warm kissing on that skin…of grazing my teeth across it, nipping I lightly and—I shook my head slightly. How it would feel to run my hands through his hair, across his jaw…down his chest. I thought of his green eyes burning on my skin while my eyes focused more closely on his rose tinged lips. Against his skin they were like petals: soft, sweet, fragrant. I thought about them wrapping themselves around mine. My eyes were raking over him…several times over. He was too distracted too notice, though Hermione wasn't. She "accidently" bumped me, and I snapped my head towards her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. _Thank god I can't smell anything besides potion-fail right now_…_so much potion fail_. I thought painfully.

I brought my attention back to my potion. _Time's up_. I thought. I decantered it carefully into a glass flask and corked it. I quickly began to clean up methodically; returning ingredients and scrubbing materials. Ten minutes left of class, may have well seemed like an eternity. I tried desperately not to think of Harry, but as time passed…probably only seconds, it seemed unmanageable. _Even with Hermione being impossibly annoyed at her potion. _

I propped up my book and decided to flip disinterestedly through it. If History of Magic had the most enthralling book paired with the most mind-numbingly dreary teacher—potions was the opposite. Severus was fascinating, and true master at what he did…_but dear god this book!_ I didn't have long to muse, however, before Severus began making rounds and instructing people to clean up. He glided through the class, making small remarks and tsk tsk noised. Then he stopped at our table.

"Miss Granger I believe I said it is time to stop," he said coldly. Her hair, if it was possible, was more frazzled than it had been an hour ago. Severus didn't even look at Ron or Hermione's potions, but did comment on Harry's. "Shame, Potter. You do know that you were supposed to add the peppermint _after_ the moondew?" He arched a menacing eyebrow, "or are you above using…hmm…instruction?" Severus' voice dripped poison, but he accomplished what he wanted: Harry was grinding his teeth, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his side. _I wouldn't mind him taking his aggression out on me_. I tried to shake the thought away and fill that lusting part with indifference…but the lust continued to seep into the edges of the consciousness.

Ron muttered, "After….blimey mate…after." As if that single action would have saved their potion—it was so irrevocably flawed, they'd were lucky their muck was inert.

Severus' hand snapped up the potion I had bottled. "Not a complete waste after all," he drawled to the class, "this is an Ice Potion…a bit…concentrated."

_Oh now you're just nitpicking you arse._

"But it should work none-the-less." He gave me a calculating look, and then swiped the flask into his cloak. He swept to the front of the class and made some finishing remarks on the subject of the delicate art of potion making, officially closing lecture.

With that awkward encounter out of the way, I speedily exited.

"Where to next?" Ron asked.

"I have…" Harry pulled out his schedule, "Divination."

"Lovely," Ron responded contentedly, "nap time." He clearly meant that statement. Harry gave a small smile and nodded. A crooked smile took up residence on his rosy lips. However, I was given insufficient time to contemplate the warm feeling of his lips enveloping mine before Hermione had come bustling by.

"Honestly," she groaned, "what the bloody hell was that about? You did like—like nothing the book said to do!"

"The book took liberties with its directions," I shrugged, "so I took liberties fixing them." I arched an eyebrow at her but she only gave me an angry look. "So where are you headed next?" I tried to diffuse the situation.

"Ancient Runes," she practically growled.

"Oh good," I goaded, "I can sleep as well then."

Ancient Runes could be summed up in two words: ancient runes…or rather…rogue memorization of…crap. _Just stuff. Just runes. That's it_. I felt exasperated by how ridiculously boring a subject could be…_and I thought nothing would ever bore me. _ Just memorize runes and try to put them together like a sadistic Sudoku puzzle…and that's it. You win. And by win I mean you…you just translate ancient runes into English. _Fantastic._ Not that anything we were translating was remotely interesting. It's not even like we were learning a foreign language to speak and build upon. No grammar. No tenses. _Just memorization. Bloody boring_. Even Hermione's usual vigor seemed stretched trying to keep an interested façade. She was quite adept at identifying memorable patterns, but then again, Hermione was adept at everything it seemed. _Except NOT following directions_. Perhaps that's why she was so bloody good at Runes. She did what the book did- and it led her to success. I did what the book did- and I just wished that I could pass out.

I was treated, however, to day dreaming. Fanciful day dreams with no negative repercussions because Harry wasn't present to tempt me with that golden essence—no tempting aroma to make my teeth ache or my throat burn. I thought about that tousled hair, those rosy lips, those fiery emeralds that glued me in place. I didn't want to stare at them and appreciate them—I wanted to be consumed by them. I wanted them to burn me with their gaze. I let out a deep breath, absentmindedly turned a few pages, and zoned out again. Next it was his jawline that invaded my thoughts. Perfectly shaped to run my fingers across and my lips down. I thought about the open mouthed, hot kisses I'd lay onto his skin agonizingly slow. Followed by small nibbles of his creamy flesh. Perhaps I would trace my lips to his ear and allow my lips to enjoy it for a while…eliciting shudders and moans from him. I wanted to hear him make such soft, yet inviting sounds. I thought about kissing back down his ear. It led perfectly to his neck, which led to his exquisite collar bone and shoulder. His shoulders, chest and arms were just muscular enough that they beckoned my hands to dance over them as I peppered kisses across that sweet skin.

I replayed the scenario over and over again, addicted to the sensual nature of it. How I longed that the kiss last night hadn't been with Draco. That I had been pressed so close to someone else's body. I felt pins prick at the back of my neck. _Wha-noo..oh no…this isn't…he's not even here..that's not…damn it that's not fair!_ The longer I thought the proximity to Harry, the harder it was to ignore the burning. Then a small dark part of myself, egged me on. The ichor started to seep. I was reminded of the ache in my teeth, but I tried to ignore it. Then the images came flashing. Being pressed close to him, so close. Close enough I could feel his heartbeat, his pulse quicken. Close enough I could flick my tongue across his skin and taste him. My throat burned harder. I thought of sucking delicately on his bottom lip and appreciating how tantalizingly close what I wanted would be, that warm delicious nectar. Pushing him into one of those overstuffed chairs I could tear his shirt away, grinding myself against him. I'd allow my frustrations to play out, while he used me as his release as well. He could pour his rage into me as I allowed my lust to overwhelm me. Pressing my body as close to his as possible, I'd entangle one hand in his hair and the second would be exploring his chest. That warm, delicious, tempting liquid that pulsed through him would quicken when I bared my teeth against his neck. _It beckons to me…it would want me to take it._ My throat would burn as I became more frenzied.

I froze, and tried to blink it away. I _was _becoming more frenzied. Flashing through my mind for an instant were my teeth tearing at his neck. _His _neck. _His..his..mine…_. I had to take a deep breath to stop from growling. The scene was erotic, repulsive…but alluring. That thick, golden...crimson essence that beckoned me toward it. I wanted to straddle him as my lips wrapped themselves delicately around his neck while my teeth sunk themselves into that precious skin, allowing that pure liquid to wash over my lips and ease the burning in the back of my throat.

My head twitched violently, pulling me out of my daydream. No one noticed, luckily- though most of them were asleep. I tried to pull myself away from the erotic horror, but I couldn't. I was enjoying it too much. The dark, disgusting part of me just kept repeating _.…kill._ I wanted to moan. I wanted to make _him_ moan, while I slowly-

I shook my head again. I couldn't get off thinking about killing him. That was just…my stomach turned. I _was_ getting off thinking about killing him. _You could give him a glorious death…it would be good for both of you_. I was getting off convincing myself that he would offer himself up to me. _He would…he couldn't resist._ I got off thinking about enjoying his last few moment of flickering life mingled with my few moments of fiery lust…blood lust and erotic lust. I tried to blur my mind to everything, and stare blankly at the page. I needed numbness to consume me. I needed to push the creature back into the cage. I needed to contain the putrid essence that was trying to contaminate my sane mind. I allowed a violin concerto to wash over my mind and numb all other thoughts. It was cold and empty—but at least I wasn't petting my creature comforts with extravagance.

Class finally ended. Luckily Hermione was simply enthralled by Ancient Runes. I was enthralled by Harry. She was so fascinated by studying them. I just wanted to study Harry. She couldn't wait to get through the first chapters of the book to get to the good stuff. I couldn't wait to get to the good stuff either. _Oh thank bloody god I have a free period next_.

I scurried off towards the dungeons to lie down and prepare myself for my last class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts. A class where I would be sitting in dangerous proximity to Harry, where I would most likely be bored, and where there would be nothing preventing his smell from overwhelming me. _Sit next to Draco…that prat will likely keep you distracted… Touché. _The dark part of me just wanted to have that single glorious moment with Harry. That single moment of perfect ecstasy where I would devour him, and be removed of that horrible lust any longer. Then the sane part of me remembered that I wasn't a murderer…that I had a choice.


	14. 14: Sinking Feeling

Unhallowed

Part 14

I spent the entire hour and half cuddled with Esper on my bed, trying to flush my mind clean: trying to force that bit of ichor that I accidently released back into its dark little corner of existence. I allowed the cold ambivalence of numbness take over as I made my way down to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The classroom was fairly boring as classrooms go. Wooden desks that seated two, tiled floors, and cream colored walls that happened to decorated with pink swatches of a gauze-y looking fabric. I managed to arrive late enough that other students had already arrived, including Hermione, and I made a point to sit on the opposite side of the room. I pulled out my joke of a book and tossed it half hazardly on the table top. I reached into my bag and gave Esper a few reassuring strokes. Her chest rumbled with a contented purr that helped consume me. I almost didn't notice students begin to file into the room…Almost. Harry and Ron strode in, and of course Ron walked straight towards Hermione in a failed attempt at nonchalance. He dropped his bag and took the seat next to her. Harry let out a frustrated sigh…_how is it every sound he makes…_I quickly washed the thought over with renewed cold. I stared straight forward and watched him in my peripheral vision. He glanced around the room and his eyes landed on me. It took all of my willpower not to let my iron glare on the front of the room waver. I filled my thoughts with the sound of Esper purring…it worked. _Holy fuck—that was the best 150 galleons that I could have ever spent_. I tried to work the thought out further, but was interrupted by a wave that crashed over me. _Though it could work better_…

Harry stood next to me…part of me heard him asking if he could sit next to me…and like an idiot I nodded mutely. _Fucking idiot…shake your head no, say something cutting…don't do this to yourself._ But I just let him sit next to me. I was too flooded with that scent that hit me like a wall. I felt my breath knocked out of my chest, but I just sat still, not showing any sign of the turmoil that was playing beneath my skin. _Purring…focus on the purring…_I really hoped that I wouldn't have to remind myself of that every 30 seconds. His scent was just so overpower. It threatened to overpower my free will. I briefly wondered why he didn't have this effect on me the first time I had seen him. _Choice…choice…something about a choice…purring…_and then peace for a few moments. I decided that breathing through my mouth would help to alleviate my senses. _What a fucking stupid idea on my part._ The overpowering, but controllable scent that was flooding my senses was immediately transformed into an even more pungent taste. _Oh god…I can taste him…_I could feel the sweet tingle of his honeyed essence on my tongue…and if I thought my throat had burned insatiably before…I was a misguided fool. _Purring…pulsing…blood._

I had to stop it right there. I tensed my entire body and forced music over my consciousness. I made myself completely unresponsive. I focused singularly on music. I allowed piano, violin, cello, clarinet, saxophone, etc to cascade over me. The still sane part of my brain, the small part, hoped that the teacher wouldn't require any responses beyond turning pages and remaining statuesque.

Time passed. I was vaguely aware of Toady entering the classroom. I was vaguely aware of Harry attempting to talk to me. I was vaguely aware of the burning in my throat. I was vaguely aware that Toady matched the horrible gauze-y fabric that was clumped tastelessly around the room. Then I numbed myself again and some time passed. I realized that yelling was occurring, and I tried to crumble enough of the numbness to look around, while retaining enough to remain indifferent. To my surprise Harry was yelling. _Was this how he talked to everyone he was frustrated with?_ I briefly wondered if it was his own feelings that consumed him, or if it was…

"Voldemort is back!" Harry yelled. A wave of cringes rippled throughout the room, I just turned my head in shock and faced him. My brain was not completely out of its trance before Toady stood over Harry menacingly. _She's good at menacing…_it was kind of chilling.

"Detention Mr. Potter," she said with a sickly sweet tone that vaguely disguised the venom and menace in her voice…vaguely. The threat in her voice did not go unnoticed. After a few seconds I realized that my bag was rustling. I nudged it with my foot nervously…_Yeahhh….I'm just nudging this…oh god damn it!_ The flap of the bag flipped open and Esper bound out of the bag and clawed her way up Harry's leg and into his lap.

Toady stood frozen in place for a moment before her eyes narrowed. That's when it happened. It was an instant, but it seemed to happen in slow motion. Her pudgy little hand darted into her pink clothing folds to grab for her wand.

"One of those monstrosities," her voice screeched snapping her wand towards Esper. I felt the growl rip through my chest as I lunged forward to grab Esper. "Don't you dare stop me!" Toady squealed exasperated. I picked her up and pulled her toward my chest.

"I'm going to show this class how to dispose of a dangerous creature," she continued in that tone that was grating heavily on my already thin patience.

"You want to see dangerous?" I growled lowly. The rest of the class was tense and utterly silent. I held Esper tight to my chest. She struggled and I felt her growl against me.

"Excuse me? Are you threatening me? Do you have any idea who I am?" I growled. She flicked her wand between me and Esper. "Drop the beast, now!" I slowly shook my head, but Esper's digging claws were becoming more frantic in trying to escape my grasp. "See it! It's dangerous! It's trying to escape!" Trying succeeded, and Esper managed to escape my grasp on her. She pushed herself away from me and violently lunged towards Umbridge. I would have reeled in horror, if I hadn't already been so upset by the entire experience. As Esper darted much more quickly, and much more agile than I have ever witnessed; her teeth were bared and her eyes were fierce. I immediately recognized the look: the look of a predator killing its prey.

By the time the realization hit me Esper had tackled Umbridge to the floor, letting out horrible snarls and hisses, batting her wings threateningly, and tearing that pink outfit to shreds. I was most concerned with her teeth, however, which were bared and attempting to get lease on a piece of unprotected skin. Credit to Toady, she fought her off long enough for me to regain my senses. I lunged forward to grab Esper. I tried to calm myself and coddle her into submission. As Toady stood up, however, I could feel the wonderfully soft fur begin to bristle.

"You will forfeit that monstrosity immediately!" She huffed out, her wand drawn. I clenched my jaw tightly, squared my shoulders and held onto Esper tightly.

"No," I said coldly. As tempting as it became to bend her will to my own…I didn't even flinch thinking about it. For a moment I was tempted—I felt the cold pour through my entire being as I tried to drown out the sudden desire to utterly destroy Umbridge. _Cold…cold…cold…calm…purring…she's…she's just…cold…calm…she's just…just Toady…_I allowed a hallow laugh. _She's just Toady. That's all. She can't touch your Esper…she can't touch you…calm…cold…calm…_I exhaled through my nostrils. Esper was visibly calmed as well.

I sat down abruptly and tucked her into my bag. Then I stared at Umbridge with a cold removed stare, and slowly arched an eyebrow. She quivered for a moment, fuming…confused…angered, "Detention!" She screeched, "Both of you! Tomorrow night! My office!" She stalked to the front of the class. Everyone remained in their seats. Still as statues. "WELL! Class dismissed!"

I groaned a bit. _Well that could have gone worse—yeah well it could have got a lot fucking better too_. I finished bitterly. The cold that was ebbing to frustration. I clenched my jaw tightly and stalked out of the room towards the dungeons trying to remain in control. I needed to take a long bath, or a shower, or just—_Gaaaaa! I just need to calm the fuck down!_ I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes…this was a bad sign. Just as I was approaching the Slytherin common room I felt a hand tug at my shoulder. I reeled around to meet it.

"Told you it was a monster," Draco chuckled.

_DRACO MALFOY THIS IS NOT THE GODDAMN TIME FOR THIS—I swear to god I will tear you apart piece by piece…_ "Mmhm," and a curt nod was all I managed out. My eyes must have been blazing even if the rest of me was pumping icy ichor.

"Hey… I was just…it's a joke, you know…a joke," he said leaning in a bit. My hand shot up and shoved him roughly into the opposite wall.

"Is this the best time to goad me? Do you really think this is the time for that kind of banter?" I tried to say it as calmly as possible, but I could hear the darkness in my voice as soon as the words fell from my lips. He stared at me, with what—I didn't care. "Well?" I demanded.

"You just…" he straightened himself and sneered a bit as someone walked by. "You just seemed like you needed to…vent," he finally finished, brushing his clothes straight and running his fingers quickly through his hair.

"Right now I'm trying not to tear your head off….figuratively and literally," I said as collected as I could manage, but the façade wasn't holding together. Draco didn't recoil at all, he simply stared. He knew full well how bad it could get, and he also knew that it wasn't there yet…_Yet….yet…don't…not yet._ I needed to get out. I need to get isolated. I realized that the common room wasn't the best place to be by myself. "Show me the fastest way outside," I tried to bark at him—but the feeling was already seizing in my chest: claustrophobia. It was that feeling that would slowly wind itself tightly against me and suffocate me until I lashed out. "Now!"

Draco gave a quick nod of his head and we began to pace to exit the castle. I could have found it eventually—since I did enter through the door, but now was not the time for me to get lost. The feeling was constricting itself tighter around my consciousness with each passing witch or wizard. I needed the constriction to pass. I needed it to consume me without the lash out at the end. My footfalls grew quicker, more desperate, and in response, so did Draco's. In a pace so quick it could barely be called walking, we finally made it outside. I continue walking towards the Black Lake. _.relief…_I could feel my chest tightening uncontrollably. _Just a little longer…just a little longer._ Draco glanced at me, but followed silently.

My control had been so underwhelming the last two day, I hardly recognized myself…hardly. _It's like I used to be._ The constriction crushed down tighter. I had tried to reason with myself about why breaking all my own rules was okay. That horrible putrescent ichor needed to be sealed away more tightly. _And there's one sure fire way to bury it_. My steps became feverish as we edged closer to the lake. I slid off my bag and shoved it roughly towards Draco as I paced. He simply accepted the bag and remained silent. I slipped off my robe and handed it to him as well. After another few minutes of rushed walking we were almost at the edge of the Black Lake and I could almost feel the burning in my legs. _A good start. _I thought grimly.

A few meters from the edge of the lake I kicked off my shoes in stride and started to run. This was probably the point where Draco realized what was happening, but reacted too slow to stop what I was going to do. I felt the summer grass give way under my feet as my footfalls hurried. I kept my eyes fixed on the reds and oranges that were reflecting on the wispy clouds that hung over the lake. I tried to burn the image of the sunset into my head. I focused on the deep breathes I was taking—so heavy that I could have been hyperventilating. I sprinted as fast as possible to the overhanging ridge that the Black Lake lapped against. The lake slapped lazily against the six foot overhang with its murky, ice cold water.

I exhaled as hard as I could, to force as much oxygen out of my lungs as possible, and then I dove off head first into the freezing water. Freezing was an understatement. It felt like I was swimming through a glacier, but I continued to swim straight down the lake, deeper and deeper. I took the largest strokes I could to push myself further into the depths. As the coldness crept painfully into my extremities, pressure started to build around my chest from the lack of oxygen. I continued my strokes, but my legs began to feel heavy. The cold felt as though it was piercing every inch of my skin, and the pressure started to move up from my chest to my head. I stopped my strokes and righted myself in the water. That's when I felt the first desperate lurch that my lungs made for oxygen. I looked up towards the top of the lake. I had gotten much deeper than I thought….it was so dark, but I could vaguely make out the light glowing at the surface. The pain in my chest continued to try to send my lungs into convulsion, but I kept my jaw clamped firmly closed. I moved my stinging extremities to feebly make a move back towards the surface, but they were becoming heavy and unresponsive. I gave a last strong stroke, sending myself in the right direction, but the pressure in my chest overwhelmed my head and obstructed my vision. I felt the immobilized as I could no longer fight the convulsing of my lungs, and I choked; as soon as my mouth shuddered open the dark, icy water began to pour into my chest. It did nothing to relieve the convulsing, as my lungs faintly tried to force out the water, but it was only replaced with more. The pain that overwhelmed would have normally been described as stabbing, but unresponsiveness deadened the feeling—my entire body fell numb as the last blotches of vision and consciousness were washed over with blackness.


	15. 15: Calm and Classes

Unhallowed

Part 15

I felt pressure beating down on my chest. At first it seemed so far away, as if it wasn't my chest, but then I could feel the pain growing. Everything seemed so fuzzy…so distant…so heavy…so muted. I reveled in the silence. I wanted it to consume me—to just fall into it, forever, but the pain in my chest grew steadily, until it was almost piercing.

My eyelids flew open to Draco leaning over me, soaked. Seeing his waterlogged clothes brought my attention back to my clothes. I was soaking wet to…and cold…and numb. The stinging I my chest grew overwhelming and I turned my head and began coughing and choking violently as murky water poured from my mouth. It didn't feel that cold…I felt cold…After my violent coughing fit, my breathing grew shallow and I allowed my head to thud to the ground and my eyes to flutter closed.

"Oh no you don't- are you bloody insane?"

_Draco…I think that's Draco…yes…he was wet… I'm wet too…I'm so cold…cold._ I felt my shoulders being shaken violently, but I was peaceful.

"Open your eyes!"  
><em>Is he shouting at me? Why is he shouting…I just want to sleep…I just want to…cold…it's so cold…<em>My shallow breathing faded after a few breathes, and then I stopped inhaling all together. _Quiet…it's much quieter this way…so cold_.

"Breathe!" I felt the shaking start again, but only vaguely. The numbness had washed over my entire body.

_Except the cold…it's so cold…why is it so cold…has it always been so cold?_

Then I felt a heavy pressure pound on my chest. Reactively my eyes flew open.

_Draco…he's wet…I'm wet…cold…_my eyes wanted to close, but I felt the pressure building in my chest again and finally my jaw opened and sucked in the warm air. That breath brought my awareness back to my body. I suddenly felt the drenched clothes that clung to my body. I stared at Draco who was kneeling, soaked and exhausted, over me. He was taking deep breaths…practically panting. His soaked hair clung wildly to his face and neck. His eyes darted to mine.

"Oh god—you're breathing—finally," he panted, "I thought that you'd never open your eyes again."

I slowly took in my surroundings. It was fairly dark currently. The red and oranges that previously burned in the sky were long extinguished. _Peaceful…calm...cold…cold…cold._

"Can you walk?"

I made no movement. I stared at him puzzled. _Why would…move…cold…move…cold. It's so cold._

"I'll take that vacant stare as a no."

I felt myself being tucked back into my robe. Draco put on his. There was some rustling. _Woah—we're moving._ Suddenly I was being lifted and moving with no help from my completely lifeless seeming body. The darkness seemed to pass by, and it grew warmer as the soft castle candlelight flickered by. The lights continued to flicker by as the temperature grew colder. _Cold…why is so cold_. I continued to stare off vacantly into space, being consumed by the numbness. I vaguely recall making into the Slytherin common room and hearing various voices. Then I was lying in a wonderfully overstuff couch in front of a crackling fire. _Mmm…warm._ My eyes fell entranced upon the flames that danced and sparked against the fireplace. My ears honed in on the sound of the crackling, sizzling, and snapping of the wood as flames licked across it. I was vaguely aware of the movement of my feet, but I lied transfixed to the dancing fire that pirouetted across the disintegrating wood. Time didn't seem to pass. I just was. _Warm…warm._ Slowly I became aware of a blanket that was lying across me. _Was that there before…warm…warm. _I lost myself in the crackling fire for what seemed an endless amount of time.

Slowly hazy recognition began to pour over my senses. My eyes stung and felt horribly dry. _Had I been staring at something?_ My chest hurt, and breathing caused my lungs to sting. My mouth felt raw as well. My ears slowly hummed back to life and I became aware of a light, but steady breathing near me…I also grimaced at the horribly wet clothes I was wearing… they were soggy with muck that was beginning to dry and cause my clothes to stiffen. My hair was….I didn't want to think about how disgusting my hair felt. Every muscle in my body ached, like I had been pounded into oblivion by hammers. I grunted and lurched to sit up. I felt a furry ball of fluff roll down my chest into my lap. I looked down and saw the familiar grey thing. I then looked to see Draco passed out further down the couch.

Then I remember drowning…and being pulled out…and being brought back… All the things made me unpleasantly aware of my mud caked hair, so I picked up Esper and stood to walk to witches dormitory. Upon standing I was aware of every inching ache of muscle, probably the result of lactic acid overdose—but knowing that didn't ease the pain that it caused. I trudged back to the room and plopped Esper on my bed. A few people I passed gave me quizzical looks, probably because I looked like hell, but I couldn't conjure up an emotion to respond. I stripped off the sodden clothes and plodded to the bathroom, after which relaxing in hot water with copious amounts of fragrant oils ensued.

After thoroughly expunging the sore muscles and the lake sludge, I made my way back to room and changed into clothes for the day.

I left Esper curled up in my bed. Although, she tried to climb into my bag, I firmly decided that class excursions with her were not in our best interest, although it did bother me that Toady would know where to find her. Whether or not Severus let her in…well…I left her anyways and headed down for breakfast. Draco was still passed out on the couch so I walked over to shake him awake and send him away to his dormitory. He was horribly caked in sludge still, though some of it had dried. He mumbled something about "bloody sludge" and then stumbled off to his dormitory. I made my way down to the Great Hall—it was still early enough to be dark outside. Plopping down the Slytherin table I nibbled away at a meager amount of food and stowed away a sizeable amount for Esper. Then I found some oatmeal raisin cookies. While oatmeal with raisins may be considered a legitimate breakfast, baking them into a cookie, while genius, should NOT constitute breakfast. I ate more than a few while sipping pumpkin juice, which did a decent job at easing the stinging of my esophagus, probably due to profuse amounts of lake water that had been passing through it the evening before. I continued enjoying the sweet breakfast until I noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione stumble in for breakfast. I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and headed to sit with them.

I plopped myself down next to Hermione.

"Good job in class yesterday," she murmured.

"In what? Almost getting Esper killed, or almost getting Toady killed?" I asked with nonchalance. She practically gagged. Ron started laughing and Harry grinned.

"W-what did you just call her?" she seemed shell shocked.

"Esper or Toady?" Hermione's eyes widened and shook her head.

"That's what I thought you called her. Well I'm glad she's breeding as much discontent amongst us as we are in her. I'm fairly certain everyone in school heard about our class lasting no more than 15 minutes yesterday because you two," she paused to look from Harry to me, "were a little less than friendly."

"I don't recall myself pulling out my wand and jabbing it at people."

"She has a point," Ron added.

"I'm not complaining," Hermione added, "I'm just saying that it set off quite an _promising_ tone for this year."

"Well at least I won't have detention by myself," Harry supplemented.

I glanced over at him, "I'm pretty sure if she keeps this up, she'll have Hermione in detention by the end of the year." I took a sip of pumpkin juice, "And if you wanted me to join you in detention, you could have just asked—it would have been far less awkward."

"I'll keep that in mind," he responded with a crooked smile. I returned it with a half-hearted attempt and looked at him a bit longer. Slowling realization was building itself in the back of my mind. But I couldn't remember what it was. So I looked back to my pumpkin juice as I sipped it.

"Speaking of detention dates," Hermione started, "which I doubt I'll ever be joining, by the way. Do you think you think Umbridge will be a…um…aware of your…your condition?" She finished meekly.

"Ha—you mean living right? Or is it my breathing? My blinking? My attachment to a grey ball fluff? My wonderful taste in everything that isn't pink?" I deadpanned.

"I just—I mean, you know how she is—,"

"Have you read the book she assigned, Hermione? I'm fairly certain you're at least 10% less intelligent when you finish than when you started…honestly, if her insight on choosing books is any reflection of how she'll perceive my 'condition,'" I paused for a moment, "then, honestly, I probably look like a bloody dragon right now. Pointy teeth, words that breathe fire, overly protective of my treasure, scaly skin, spiky tail…oh wait." Ron and Harry chuckled, Hermione tried not to.

"Okay, okay…she's not the most observant person. But seriously…try not to do anything dumb."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to—I'm fonder of the profoundly stupid approach to issues like this."

More people had started entering the Great Hall and the clinking of goblets, utensils, and plates steadily rose.

"So classes are starting soon, what do you have today?" Hermione inquired. I procured my schedule while steadily munching on cookies. She glanced over it, "All the same as Gryffindor—well, accept you're not taking Astronomy or Divination?" she asked.

I shook my head, "I don't believe in such shenanigans. Only I choose what I do. If someone happened to guess what I choose, well then they can suck it. I have free will, and I can choose not to do it. Have you read Oedipus? How'd he end up killing his father and becoming king—oh right because his father had tried to stop him from doing exactly that. Yeah…I'll make my choices on unadulterated free will- no other people poisoning my head with ideas—only I'm allowed to do that."

"Yeah—but it's just knowledge…it couldn't hurt right?" She insisted.

"Hypothetical situation time," I took a bite of my cookie meaningfully, "Suppose you talk to some seer- or whatever. And suppose this seer tells you the name of a person you will meet in the future. And then the seer further tells you that this person is your soul-mate: that you will be happy with them forever: you'll get happily married, you'll happily have children, and you'll blissfully grow old together."

"I'd be thrilled—it'd save a lot of time screwing up," Ron quickly answered.

"Right," I replied, "but now, did you fall hopelessly in love and marry them because of yourself? Or because someone told you to do it?"

"Does it matter?" Ron asked, incredulously, "If you do something and you're happy—then you're happy?"

"It does matter- that's exactly the point. What if it was sorrow or sadness or death you were trying to avoid? I'd much rather be allowed to make those fateful decisions myself rather than being manipulated by someone else who claims 'omnipotence.'"

"I guess I understand your point…but…" Hermione was looking for something to clinging to.

I shook my head, "Knowledge is knowledge—it always distorts your perceived reality, whether for better or worse. Everything you know affects you—even if you don't think it does." She chose not argue.

"I'd still marry the lass," Ron grumbled while continuing to scarf down some eggs. After finishing we slowly made our way to Charms. Thanks to Hermione we arrived obscenely early and did nothing.

Charms was not a class I was looking forward to—it was primarily bewitching objects to be subject to your will…a subject I was already far too adept at. While transfiguration was going to focus on what an object _was:_ changing its physical properties, like turning a teacup into a toadstool—Charms was only going to focus on what an object _did_: grow hot, mend together, float, etc. _Time to learn some wicked awesome wand waving_. I mused.

The classroom was set up so two parallel lines of desk lined each wall, all facing the center. Each table seated four people, though all the tables touched end to end. The front center of the room hodgepodge stacks of books, boxes and instruments. The room had very tall window that accentuated the spaciousness of the class.

Hermione, followed closely by Ron, took up residence at the very front of the class. Harry sat next to Ron, and I beside Harry. Perhaps it was because the classroom setting had become more familiar, but that slow realization had fully materialized in the back of my mind and I became aware of what I had been lacking. Sitting next to Harry I realized it. It seemed normal—there was no overwhelming urge to…to do anything really. No urge to attack him—to hurt him—to drain him dry—to ravish him. None of it. Harry was trying to chat with Ron, who was trying to chat with Hermione, who was trying to read her book. I looked at Harry for a few more moments ashe grew increasingly agitated at Ron, and finally shrugged and turned back to me. I absently stared into his emerald eyes. The smoldering seemed gone. Now they just looked nice. Pleasant. His hair didn't beckon me to touch it, it just was. He gave a small smile—nothing breathtaking. Just a smile. A wonderfully understated smile. He seemed so normal to me now. Not an obsession, or a magnet, or any other object that threatened my free will or tempted it. Just—just a person sitting next to me in charms class. I tried to give a reciprocal smile, but I continued staring.

"So, er…what do you think we'll end up doing for detention tonight?" He asked. His voice wasn't hypnotic, it was simply enjoyable. I realized that my ears were even trying to attune themselves to his pulse, or his breath, or anything else that might tempt my control.

It seemed that whatever it was about him that had devoured me so fully, had simply disappeared—and I was sitting there satisfied that horror was over. _Success—last night was pure and utter success._ I had no urge to tear out his throat—_generally something to avoid_—and currently I was able to. More than that, I wasn't even tempted to. It wasn't something I was avoiding—it was something that I was staring straight at, and had no desire to keep staring.

I allowed my hands to absently fiddle with the corners of the pages of my book. "Probably something fantastically exciting like…hmmm… reorganizing the library," I said wistfully.

He chuckled a bit, "Are you always inappropriately excited, bored, happy, whatever?"

"It's part of my appeal—acting contrary always makes things much more fun," he arched an eyebrow at me, "admit it—even if we were reorganizing a library, my inappropriate enthusiasm paired with humorous outrage would make it worth it."

"Humorous outrage?"

"I'm always humorous." And with that, Flitwick bustled to the front of the class.

Unlike with other teachers, when Flitwick began talking, student conversations continued—something that generally would have twanged me with annoyance—but right now I was just feeling peaceful. Glad to be sitting calmly next to a fantastically entertain person without the desire to harm him. Glad to be in a class with a fantastically short wizard who was overwhelmingly happy to be teaching. Glad to be staring bemusedly across the room at the rest of the Slytherins. Glad to be staring at Draco who looked at me with a slightly disgusted expression. Glad he was feeling disgusted, because later I would be gladly rebuking him.

"So this year we will be learning a few particularly useful spells," he began. "Though there is time for those later, today we are going to be starting with one that you may find bemusing: the silencing charm. The spell will render the victim temporarily mute. It works on beasts and beings." Flitwick seemed to bubble over with enthusiasm. "Let's practice the incantation."

Three hours later, after many humorous attempts at silencing each other, most left much happier than when they arrived. It was difficult not to—Flitwick's personality was too much fun. Hermione practiced on Ron, while Ron attempted to convince himself that flourishing his wand would be more effective than jabbing his wand. This was clearly not the case- but it was bemusing to watch. Charms was very entertaining. It allowed you to move around, to sit down, to be quiet, and to be rambunctious. It required no concentration on my behalf to successfully cast spells— I needed only to flourish my wand needlessly, which sufficed to further convince Ron that it was possible to Silence someone whilst inappropriately waving his wand about. It was 3 hours of fantastic.

If Charms could be considered complete freedom—Transfiguration could be considered utter serfdom. It was exact, demanding, quiet, and took place while sitting the entire time. McGonagall paced around the room, sometimes as a stern faced witch, other times as a tabby cat. _ An Animagus… interesting._ That was something I hadn't tried—actually I didn't even know if it was possible for half-breeds to transform into other animals. I made a mental note to ask Hermione about that later.

"You have leaned fundamentals thus far," McGonagall stated matter-of-factly. _The one class that I need an intro to…and…_ "However, this year is your O.W.L's. For those of you that have failed to spend adequate amounts of time studying, you need to cultivate healthier habits—because this class is going to be demanding." I took a deep breath…_I perused the book…I can do this. I can do this. I can do this._

"Today we will start with something that you should pick up easily enough, but that will be helpful I'm sure: Scribblifors. It is a simple transfiguration that transforms almost any solid object into a quill. The object must only be comprised of one piece- no articulated parts- and nothing organic. That means nothing that was alive, or previously alive. This includes parchments, clothing and wands." I had a feeling that this was fortunate—_no missing books or outfits to account for._ "I hope that you master this spell easily, because it will save you a small pile of sickles. There will be plenty of writing this year—all in preparations for your O.W.L.'s." _I keep hearing this phrase and I have no idea what this means. Words are coming out of your mouth and I have no idea what they mean!_

McGonagall magically distributed a small pile of pebbles to each table. "There are plenty of these around the edges of the Lake if you're ever in need of more." _I suppose they don't want us changing foundation bricks into feathers_…_quills…_ "Ink, however, you'll have to find on your own. There is a supply in the Lake—but I don't recommend utilizing it."

After three hours—if I had thought that Charms was funny, then utter hilarity ensued in Transfiguration. I spent the time subtly, but clumsily, perfecting the swish and slash of the wand. Purple sparks, orange sparks, yellow sparks. _Red sparks damn it!_ Purple sparks, yellow sparks, pink sparks. _Close- but not red…just red…I just want red sparks._ Red gas. _Well its red I suppose…_yellow sparks, red streamers, orange streamers. _Wow- it's just getting worse._ I was garnering more than a few stares as I silently swashed my wand more and more perfectly, but not perfectly enough, apparently. Orange sparks, pink sparks, red confetti…then finally… A red light and small sparks sprung form the tip of the wand and surrounded the pebble. The pebble glowed for a moment before elongating and spreading out. The corners began to soften and after a few seconds a quill sat before me. I was speechless. It wasn't the first spell that I had managed- but it had only taken a few minutes to get it. _The first spell I learned at formal school._ I grinned. _This will be fantastic indeed_. There was something satisfying about learning, and not learning of my own accord—but being taught something. People continued to stare as McGonagall walked up to me.

"Excuse me Miss Riddle, do you generally practice speechless magic?"

"Hmm?" I looked up, rolling the lavish feather through my fingers, somewhat awestruck.

"I may have not notice, but would I be correct in assuming that you used word-less magic? You didn't speak the incantation out loud?"

"That proooobably would have made it easier…sorry…I just didn't think to…"

"So you mean to say that you generally don't use incantations?" She seemed more perturbed the more words that passed through my lips.

"I suppose that's correct…I'm sorry…if that's…not…" I realized that amongst the mumblings, growling, squeals, and agitated sighs of the room, that my muteness did not go unnoticed. _Staring…right…now it makes sense._

"No need to apologize. Fifth year is the year that students begin to learn it—I'm glad that you seemed to have grasped it." Relief washed over me as stares turned from me to McGonagall. Students began to realize that it was not me they needed to be concerned about—but themselves. _I'm sure most of them had never even considered not uttering an incantation out loud._ "Also, Miss Riddle, could I suggest that you come by this evening to speak with me?"

I was a little startled, wondering if I had actually done something wrong, "I'm sorry…but this evening…I, um…er…" I actually felt somewhat embarrassed to admit it, "I have detention tonight…" I finished.

"Yes, I believe I heard about that, but if you could stop by anyway—I'm sure that I can get it rescheduled for you." If detention didn't sound appealing tonight, it seemed even less appealing without Harry.

"Well…you see- I don't have it by myself… and I told them that I wouldn't bail."

"I see," she murmured, "Well, who else is it that managed to get detention the first day?" She arched an eyebrow and glanced towards the other Slytherins.

"Harry did…" She brought her stare back at me, and it felt heavy.

"Indeed," she said with the eyebrow still held high. She then turned on a heel and walked away to observe other pebbles.

_Soooo…detention still? Yes? Probably…A week of detention…fuuunnnn…_


	16. 16: Quills

Unhallowed

Part 16

After Transfiguration I found myself chatting with Hermione as we moseyed towards Care of Magical Creatures.

"So how long have you been able to do nonverbal magic?" she enquired. I shrugged my shoulders as we continued walking.

"Is it really that important?" It was her turn to shrug. We walked through the great oaken doors to the surprisingly sunny day. A light breeze rustled through my hair and played lightly over the grass. The sun cast down onto the lake, reflected heavily onto the grounds.

Care of Magical Creatures started…and it was disappointing to say the least. Magical creatures are fascinating of course- though, like a biology course for a muggle, we failed to see anything particularly entertaining. The classes began, continued, and ended with Bowtruckles. The lecture was simply a statement of things found in the book, and the assignment…well the assignment was a drawing. Something that could be easily done without having ever seen, been scratched by, or having to listen to a boring lecture on—the Bowtruckle. Unfortunately for us, the Bowtruckle was only found in Western parts of England, Germany, and some Scandinavian forests. I suppose that makes us somewhat lucky to see one. Except that they aren't particularly entertaining. In fact—they're rather obnoxious. They are the guardian for their "home" tree, trees which coincidentally, are generally used to make wands. The Bowtruckle has spindly twig fingers, while used for eating, also were used for creeping me out. They were long and sharp and adept at scouring bugs from small holes—also they used those spindly twig fingers for attacking: focusing primarily on the face of the victim. A frightening scene indeed, as no less than three students were chased by the spindly stick creatures. They're behavior did not instigate the creative flow for drawing—in fact, mostly, I felt the overwhelming urge to dollop one with the cumbersome book I was carrying. Or, more appropriately, I was very tempted to transform one into a quill, a much more pleasant stick; however I was saddened to recall that although Bowtruckles seemed to be made of pure annoyance, they were in fact organic. I made several sketches on a lengthy piece of parchment. Some more lavish than others. While Hermione's sketches were precise and realistic, mine were a bit more vague on detail, and soft on lines: they gave off the distinct quality of being imagined. Though not fully accurate, they were much more acceptable than the scratches of ink that Ron had managed onto his parchment, which was currently being torn apart by a particularly nasty Bowtruckle. Though humorous, when the class finally finished— I was relieved to be done with it.

Trudging from the outdoor scene to the greenhouse was, thankfully, a short journey. The greenhouse at this time of year was unpleasantly warm, and managed to be even more humid than outside. It wasn't long before almost everyone began to perspire. Herbology was the first class, Defense against the Dark Art not included [although that was hardly a lecture], that was primarily lecture. The entire greenhouse seemed to be caked in dirt: the stools, the tables, and the floor. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be packed into a building that was so overcrowded with people, plants, moisture, and mud. Eventually though, it ended and I wasted no time in hurrying to the dining hall to grab a bit of food for myself, and then taking the leftovers from this morning, up to Esper.

Eventually I found myself in the Slytherin dungeon, making my way up to the bedroom, where upon I was accosted by none other than Draco.  
>"So…you go and do…whatever it is that happened last night," he puffed angrily as he stalked over to me, "and then you just—ignore me all day? What is your problem?"<p>

I yawned a bit and continued to stare at him coolly. "I'm talking to you right now—and it's not like I was the one dodging you—you're the one that refused to sit next to me in every class," I stated.

"Just because you're "best buddies" with that Granger, doesn't mean that I'm going to join your mudbl—,"

"Don't. Don't even start it. I understand your parent's pureblood mania—they made some wickedly poor choices, and now they've had to live the life they chose. Are you just going to keep living it?" I cut off sharply.

He stared angrily, "You know—not all of our parents abandoned us. So don't act like you're so great because you get to make decisions all on your own. I make decisions that are best—,"

"Best?" I choked down a laugh, "for who? Yourself? A choice that's 'best' for you is probably 'worst' for someone else."

"We aren't…" he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, "we aren't even going to have this conversation. And in all honestly, I don't want to fight with you, I just don't want you hanging around Potter all the time."

"And I don't want you to be smug little prat who goes around hating people for unfounded reasons," I said cooly.

"So you're saying that if I stop hating Mudbloods—,"

"That—that's the problem right there. It's not just 'mudbloods,' it's that you can objectify people thusly. Just like you can objectify the Weasleys because they are poor."

"Can I finish?" He huffed, incensed. _Interrobang…acting quizzically and irritated is probably the most obnoxious behavior that exits._ I tightened my lips and gave a short nod.

"Back to the point…I just…I see that things are polarized between groups—and that no matter how one or two of us act," I gave out an annoyed breath but bit my tongue. Draco continued, "Things aren't going to change. I'm not particularly sorry—I'm only somewhat sorry that you have to be so divided in it. You just got here, and you already have to choose. I want…" He sighed, "I want you to choose me and my family. That's something I'll probably have to earn."

"Yeah probably," I brushed off nonchalantly. _Respect you can start earning now._ Part of me wondered if treating him poorly was the best way to pursue the issue. Probably not, but dealing with it now was only going to guarantee that tempers got out of hand. "We'll talk about it later," he gave a brief nod and I turned to walk up the stairs to the dormitory.

o.O.o

Later that evening I found myself outside Umbridge's office. Harry strolled up next to me.

"Glad you made it, I wasn't going to go in till I had back up," I smirked. He chuckled a bit and then we heard the clinking of a tea cup.

"Do you suppose we should knock?" He asked.

"Do you suppose she'll be mad if we didn't and just spent the entire time out here?"

"Furious," he said as seriously as he could muster.

I arched an eyebrow, "Indeed. Well the honor is all yours Mr. Potter. Since I do recall it is your fault we are even here."

He furrowed his brow, "She was the one—."

"You just couldn't help yourself," I laughed a bit to show him that I was only joking, "but in all honesty, her respect is not something I am trying to garner, whether she believes something you say or I say , or whatnot—it's just pointless, isn't it?" His lips formed a small frown and he shrugged.

"So knock, Mr. Potter," I bowed a bit and flourished my hand towards the door invitingly. He took a deep breath and knocked.

Before the sound of the knock had finished reverberating down the hall we heard the small voice drenched in a sickly sweet tone call out, "Come in." We glanced at each other, opened the door, and filed in.

My breathing was immediately stifled by the cumbersome aromas of freesia, cotton candy, and white musk piled together so heavily that I wanted to vomit as the smell hit me. The walls were rose hued; the curtains were velvet of a darker rose hue. Doilies lay about the room: all of them were of the rosiest hue. All the wood was redwood. Toady sat behind her redwood desk with her head cocked to the side in what, she probably assumed, was a demure poise. She was pink from head to toe. _Except the overstuffed black bow on her head…like a fly._ The teacup from which she drank and the saucer she returned it to: both rosy. The effect was nauseating, and I suddenly felt as though I had a horrible case of vertigo. It was as though she was trying to create a fanciful cottage, but the effect was horrifying. As if the sight and smell weren't enough to overload one's senses, the sound would be. Glancing quickly around, though wary of taking my eyes of Toady, I tried to locate it; then I noticed the plates. Artfully decorated, though not tastefully placed, plates consumed the walls; a kitten existed on each plate, rolling, mewing, purring, and batting at yarn. Generally I found the mews of kittens cute, even calming, but this was horrible. The voices of the mews rang out in such cacophony that my inner ear felt like it was being twisted around in the most unpleasant manner. I tried to focus on Toady—but all I could focus on was not becoming sick.

Harry, on the other hand, had sickness under control—based on his poise, he seemed more concerned with not blowing his composure. Anger flickered across his face. It was somewhat understandable—Toady acted threatening and annoying and disgusting, but she did it in such a subversive manner that you simply wanted to scream at her to get her to lose her composure. That's really what it was. Harry probably wanted her to blow her top, to have her attitude match the rage she was instigating—but she didn't, and that made the rage all the more blind. They stared impassively at each other for a full minute, before I decided to chime in.

"So…what are we to be doing tonight?'

"Lines," she responded in the horridly sick tone. Her tone was akin to if you took a truckload of cotton candy, and then you melted it down with a sweet tea, and then you heated it until it started to burn, then you added hundreds of jelly beans and stirred them. Then you kept stirring the mixture until it thickened to the point where you could hardly stir it and the bottom was burned to the pan. Then you added liquid black licorice to the mix—stirring the burned sugar-y licorice-y concoction until its sickening fragrance coated the air so thickly that you could taste it when you breathed it in. That was Toady's voice. It was so disgusting, that it panged you—because you could not only hear the sickness in her tone, but you could feel it and see it.

While pondering her voice Harry and I took our seats at her desk. I glanced over at him. I wondered if being attune to his smell would have made this any less horrid. So I tried to focus on it—and then I noticed wafting through the cumbersome freesia, candy, musk, I could smell him. It was comforting. As we went to pull out our parchment and quills, Toady had to begin speaking again.

"You won't need those, the quills that is…I have some special ones that I'd like to have you use." I tried not to roll my eyes and simply nodded vacantly. I could tell, however, that Harry was much more annoyed and simply wanted to scream at her. She opened her desk and procured two quills. They were sleek, long, and dark. The plume of the feather was sleek and the grip was slender was silvery. They were actually quite attractive quills.

"You won't be needing any ink," Toady stated as Harry went to rummage through is bag. Harry's disgust was very obvious—Toady was getting exactly what she wanted while he acted like this. He shrugged and pursed his lips.

"What do you want us to write?"

"For you, Mr. Potter, I want you to write, 'I shall not tell lies,'" She finished with an almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. I glanced at Harry, who was fuming. It was taking all of his self-control to continue.

"How many times?"

"As many times as it takes to…well…well to sink in."

"And myself? What will I write?"

"Monsters must be destroyed." She chimed lightly.

"Which ones?" I asked, trying to keep venom from painting my words.

"You're right, Miss Riddle," she stopped and stared at me a long while before continuing. The use of my name brought me back to reality as I gritted my teeth, "that isn't quite descriptive enough."

"Half-breeds must be destroyed," she said.

"Arguable," I inwardly chastised myself for letting it slip.

"Excuse me, did you say something, Miss Riddle?" The way she said my last name made me cringe. It was a reminder—though I wondered if she meant to remind me, or if I was imagining it.

"I said, arguable, I find your premise false."

She gave a hollow laugh and quipped, "Half-breeds are a danger to us all, Miss Riddle."

"Your premise is that half-breeds exist—but they can't, because a species is defined by who they breed with—if two things can produce offspring, then they're the same species." _Pwn'd by Darwin._ I let a small smile play on my lips. Toady stared at me incredulously, which transformed into a painful scowl.

"You're inclined to believe what you want; Miss Riddle, but you will not spread the same poisonous ideas as Mr. Potter. You shall write the same lines as him." I stared at her bemused. _Now who's getting under who's skin." _"Now!"

I focused on the parchment before me and began to scrawl out, 'I must not tell lies.' I compared it briefly to Harry's tidy scrawl; in comparison mine was lavish. It was mostly cursive with quite a bit of embellishment. I didn't go out of my way to scrawl—my hand just flowed my freely across the page like that. The ink pouring onto the page was a bright crimson. I glanced and noticed that Harry's was the same. I took a deep breath to continue, but then became aware of the aroma. Blood. I immediately became aware of the distinct prick on the back of my skin and I glanced at my hand. It looked as if I had been scratching it a bit too zealously—except I hadn't touched it. I continued writing. It wasn't until Harry cried out in pain that I realized the connection. The back of his hand looked as if he had been carving the lines into the back of his hand….so did mine. _No ink…stupid…it's magic. It's blood…your blood. _I mumbled a few disjointed incoherent curses under my breath.

"Is something wrong?" Toady chimed. Harry shook his head disgruntledly. I simply froze. _Something is wrong…what is it? Something is wrong with this…magic…teacher…punishment…magic…something is wrong. _Harry continued to scrawl across the parchment vigorously. _Masochist. _I remained frozen trying to remember what was wrong with this picture besides the fact that we sat here scrawling out detention in our own blood. _Wrong…magic…grrr…something wrong with the fact I'm having magic used on me. _

"Aha," I murmured triumphantly.

"Excuse me?" Toady tolled again.

"Would you consider this quill magical?" I asked.

"Of course."

"And it is having some kind effect on me, yes?" I drawled out slowly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Is there something you want to say Miss Riddle."

"I'm fairly certain that it is against school rules to use magic on students as punishment…" She simply stared.

"I believe that I must have misunderstood you—are you accusing me of—."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," I said coolly, "I'm just making you aware of the illegality of your actions. So if you don't mind finding another punishment?" I stared straight at her.

"Lines. Continue." She said sharply and then stalked out of the room quickly. I glanced over at Harry. He finally stopped writing as the blood formed droplets at the end of the word 'lies' and began to run down the side of his hand. I stared for a few moments and was ecstatic to find myself completely in control. I simply watched. He glanced over at me.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling his sleeve over his hand, "I didn't realize…"

"No—it's fine," he looked at me anxiously, "really it is. That's what I was admiring…my self-control." _Next you should admire your narcissism…yeah, yeah…_

"It isn't bothering you?" I drew my eyes up to his and shook my head slowly. He let out a heavy breath. "That's reassuring." He glanced down at the parchment, "So is that true? It's against school rules to use magic as punishment?"

I shrugged and gave a smirk, "Well I do believe Toady's checking out the validity of my claim right now…though I do recall something about it. I believe it was mentioned over the summer—something about something that happened last school year." Harry's smile grew a bit, "Something to do with ferrets I think?"

He was grinning madly and gave a small nod of his head. "I don't really want to think about magical punishments that involve ferrets. So since Toady left, would you like to continue these lines with more traditional quills?"

"Not particularly," he immediately responded.

"Well how about some other quills of Toady's?"

"Definitely not with anything else of hers," he said half-jokingly.

"Don't worry, I'll make this interesting." I walked plucked my wand out of my robes and twisted my chair to face the wall behind us. I focused on two particularly obnoxiously loud plates that adorned the wall. Red sparks flew from the tip of my wand and hummed around the edges of the first plate as it began to transform—then the second plate. They wafted down to the ground.

"Well at least we know it's not bone-china," I states nonchalantly as I went and picked up the quills.

"Wicked…" Harry murmured in awe, "the quills look pretty good too, perhaps we should take a few more."

I gave a small bow and motioned my hand to the wall, "Take your pick."

After transforming a few more of her horribly gaudy plates into something much more useful, we began writing the lines. After about an hour I had gone through about six feet of parchment.

"Perhaps I should have turned it over to save space," I joked. "How long do these usually last anyway?"

"Detention? It depends…sometimes two hours, sometimes four—."

"Holy mother of—, four hours?" I shook my head perversely, "Nope—I'm done. Six feet is enough to bury me, it's enough for detention." I snapped up my bag and tucked away my newly acquired quills.

"Well, I've only gotten through about three feet of parchment," Harry joked.

"Your tidy scrawl has resulted in a shallow grave Mr. Potter—better luck next time." I said matter-of-factly. "Plus, if Toady hasn't figured out whatever it is she's been looking for, for the last hour, I think we should get to leave…well, it doesn't really matter if we 'should' be allowed to—I am leaving, would you like to join me?'

Harry hastily stuffed his newly acquired quills into his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Where to?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm particularly famished after the copious amounts of blood I lost," I sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, alright—don't push it," he grinned. "So have you been out flying yet? We could go find a couple of broomsticks and I could show you…"

"Flying later, food now. I wasn't joking—I'm starving," I looked at him menacingly and uneasiness crept into his features. "Only joking—I'm in the mood for something more along the lines of 'real' food."

He laughed, "Alright, I supposed I could use dinner, too."


	17. 17: Moonlight and Flying

Unhallowed

Part 17

We made it out of the dining hall particularly late—Prefects were beginning to herd students back to their dormitories.

"Why don't you follow me up to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Is that against the rules?" I couldn't help but wonder out loud.

"I don't think it is—but if it is, that's rubbish—I just think people don't tend to befriend people in other houses." I nodded and began to follow him up the stairs which switched back so many times I lost count.

"I understand that Slytherin and Gryffindor are polarized houses- but did they purposely put them as far away from each other as possible?" I deadpanned.

Harry laughed, "I think Ravenclaw is further away- the enlightened intellectuals are far more polarized by the narcissistic ones."

"Right." We bantered back and forth until we reached the portrait of a very rotund woman. Rotund was an understatement, but her hefty figure was adorned in a pink silk gown. _I have had enough pink for a lifetime thank…_ I sneered inwardly.

"Parsnips…do you want to come inside?"

"Pars—what—," the Portrait flew open to reveal the modest doorway into the common room, "Oh…um…I'm not sure?" I asked quizzically.

"Come in, it'll be but a moment," he insisted and grabbed my hand. I was so taken with the idea of allowing him to hold my hand that I allowed him to drag me into Gryffindor Tower. He dashed upstairs.

I was taken aback by how different the Tower was to the Slytherin Dungeon. The room was spacious, round and adorned with countless scarlet tapestries. It was filled with squashy armchairs and mismatched tables. Large windows looked out over the grounds, and between them was a single large fireplace. I was somewhat dejected when Harry speedily returned with two brooms in hand and was ushering me out of the common room. The few instants that I was in there, it was magnificent. Warm and golden to Slytherin's cold and silver domain. However, I couldn't reminisce on it particularly long because Harry was hurrying down the stairs.

"I understand that gravity works in the downward direction, but perchance you're a bit too excited," I stated while following behind him, since we were no longer strolling next to each other: we were hurriedly descending the stairs.

He glanced back at me, "If anything, you're not excited enough." I shook my head and followed him. We stopped in a dim hallway and he procured a tatty bit of parchment from his robes. Pointing his wand at it he mumbled something and then ink began pouring over the parchment.

"What's—,"

"Shhh…I'm making sure that we make it out without getting caught," he whispered. I noted the dimness off the hallways and realized that it was probably a good time after 9 pm. I nodded and waited patiently for us to continue. We slowly made our way through the dimly lit hallways. Harry kept referring to the parchment. I just found myself hoping that we didn't get caught. He didn't seem to pay any attention to anything around us, so I was doing that. Luckily we rarely came across a teacher. Though once it seemed we were fairly close to being caught, but we stopped just in time and waited for the professor to pass and continue on their patrol of the halls. The oaken doors were closed, but apparently Harry had a way around this problem, and we snuck through some hidden exit to the castle. Eventually we found ourselves on the grounds. At night they were particularly dark: everything seemed darkened, and not just shadowed. The shrubs and grass that seemed fluorescent and filled with bright hues during the day seemed sodden and faded in the evening. The Black Lake looked onyx. The Dark Forest…looked foreboding. _ Appropriate name…especially at night_. During the day the name seemed laughable- but at night it played on the underlying apprehension you had about it: that you would be cloaked in bitter darkness, an irrevocable darkness._ Creepy…_

I redirected my attention to Harry who had slowed down to walk in stride with myself. "So how far out do we have to walk?" But I found my question answered when Harry stopped and turned to face me. In the darkness I could tell that he was grinning like a madman. He placed the brooms on the ground.

"Now why would you conveniently have it in your hand and set it down on the ground?" I asked sarcastically.

"Come here and stand to the side of it," Harry motioned. I repeated what he did, standing next to the broom. "You're going to copy what I do—alright?" I nodded. He hovered his hand at chest's height over the broom and said 'up.' I arched an eyebrow and smirked bemusedly.

I lazily hung my hand over my broom and it immediately shot into my hand. Harry looked excited. "Good, the pointless stuff is out of the way." He placed a leg on either side of the broom and kicked into the air. I followed cue and did the same. With my feet hovering about a foot off the ground I leaned to the left and right. I ended up swirling around and coming to a halt right side up. I couldn't help but laugh. _Exhilarating_.

"Good, now follow me," and with that he darted off. I shifted my weight forward lazily and realized that I need a stronger grip on the broom or I'd fly off. I allowed the shock to wear off as I sloped up, veered left, dove down, veered right, back up—trying to keep up with Harry. It wasn't difficult to keep pace, but his changes were sudden and jolting. I held unto the broom more stiffly and focused on Harry more closely. I began to notice the subtle shifts of his weight, legs, and arms before he turned in certain direction, and in others. The air flying by was painfully cold and began pricking at my eyes, but I tried to keep them open. My hair flipped about my face, sometimes blocking my vision. My robe was flipping about just as crazily. Banking left, diving down. Harry made sure never to get too close to the ground, but the closer we got the more exciting it was. Eventually my eyes began to adjust to the moonlight. The higher we got, the more my breath was stolen away by the moonlight playing softly across the clouds. We flew around the edges of the castle, though never getting too close. It was gorgeous, and every time I adjusted the direction, I felt excitement surge through me. I began laughing, hysterically. The crisp, cold, wind caused tears to run down my cheeks, which were now a bright red from the air. I couldn't stop laughing—it was so fantastic: the feeling of the air surging by, the cold pricking at my skin, my hair and clothes whipping around, the moonlight accentuating the magical atmosphere of the castle, the adrenaline I felt pump through me with every subtle adjustment in direction.

Eventually we landed slowly on the grass. Well Harry landed slowly—I hadn't exactly figured out how to slow down perfectly—though I had much else figure out, so I rolled off the side of the broom when I was close to the ground and allowed myself to tumble through the grass. I couldn't stop laughing. The feeling of magic surged through me, and I was completely blissful. Harry approached me with the grin still adorning his face. I remained laying on the grass and smiled right back at him, still giggling.

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh," he said contentedly as he walked up. I broke into laughter again. "Are you alright," he joked. I managed a nod. "Perhaps you're tired? Want to head back up to the castle?" I shook my head.

"Never," I breathed heavily, "that was bloody fantastic." I heaved a few more deep breathes and looked over at him. He was just standing there with the biggest grin on his face, it made my face brighten. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Are you just going to lie there all night?" I gave out a laugh, and got into a crouching position. He got a quizzical look on his face, but before he could figure out what was happening I pounced on him and pulled tumbling to the ground. We were both sprawled out on the ground. I glanced over Harry, his glasses askew, and a surprised look on his face. I couldn't help but laugh more.

"Do you generally go around attacking people like that?"

"I'd hardly call it attacking—although it was quite fun…" I looked over at him.

He raised his eyebrows as he glanced at me, "If that doesn't constitute an attack, what possibly would?"

My laugh rang out as pounced on him again. This time we rolled several times around the grass and I brought us to an abrupt stop by pinning his shoulder into the grass while I kept him in place with my legs that were on either side of his waist.

"Something more like this," the smile was heard in my voice.

"You are far too adept at rolling around in the grass," he said still recovering from the sudden tumble through the slightly damp grass. I allowed myself to fall next to him on the grass as I stared up at the moon. The light twinkled warmly across the light clouds that painted the sky. It was considerably warmer outside when we weren't darting through the air. I felt Harry shift next to me in the grass.

"Genevieve?"

"Hmm?"

He fell quiet for a minute, though it could have been several. I didn't mind though. The night was so fantastic. "Were you thinking about trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team?" I turned my head to face him. "It's just…if you were—I'd be willing to teach you how to fly…" The smile never melted from my face as I lie there staring at him in the moonlight. I was so taken with happiness that we were just together, at night, doing something so addictively fun…and he was here offering up more of these nights.

"That would nice," I said quietly. He stared back at me. We were lying shoulder to shoulder in the grass. The moonlight dusting his figures in the soft light, accentuated the natural brightness of his eyes, the paleness of his skin, and naturally disheveled appearance of his hair. I noticed the thin scar that adorned his forehead. I thought about how not perfect Harry was, and how not perfect I was—and how amazing that made it. How we could just exist as people: with flaws and with pasts, but somehow we lay out here on the grass on a gorgeous evening—together.

"You know what else would be nice?" he murmured.

"Hmm?" my voice purred contentedly. Then I felt his cold hand brush across mine and felt his fingers intertwine with mine. Broken into pieces—yet here we were. My smile grew a bit and then I turned my face back to the moonlit sky.

"That is nice…" I hummed softly. We lied there silently for hours. Part of me wished that I could float off into sleep, but the rest of me never wanted the moment to end: the peace. It was such a welcome feeling that washed through me as we lied on the warm grass beneath the silvery light that was diffusing through the clouds. We heard rustling in the forest, we heard the trees sway in the slight breeze that swept through the edge of the grounds. We heard light splashes breaking the surface of the Lake. It was so peaceful and calm. After several hours though—it had to come to an end. Hand in hand we meandered back to the castle.

"I'd like to walk you back to the Dungeon," Harry whispered. I gave a small smile and nodded. I breathed in deeply and enjoyed the fragrance that was surrounding me. He procured his parchment and we made our way, slower than necessary, down to the Dungeons. I could tell by the roughness in Harry's voice that he must be tired. It warmed me even more on the inside to think that he was sacrificing sleep for this evening. Harry admitted he had been down to the Dungeons once and was not looking forward to a repeat visit. I simply reveled in holding his hand as we progressed towards the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Eventually we made it. I turned to him and smiled—pulling my hand away from his and handed him the broom I had been carrying. He took it from me and then leaned both of the brooms against the cold stone wall. He took my hands in his. He was standing close—he didn't tower over me, but he was tall enough that I inclined my head to look into his eyes: his soft, blazing, emerald eyes.

"Genevieve…tonight was quite splendid," he said softly, but uncertainly.

"Especially the part with Umbridge," I jested. He gave a small nod.

"I was wondering…" He paused and glanced down at our hands. I further entwined my fingers with his. His fingers felt so lovely mingled with mine; his hands were large enough that they slightly cradled my hands in his. It was comforting. He glanced back at me, "Would I be allowed to kiss you this evening?" I stiffened a bit, but before surprise could register on my face, I took in a calming breath through my nose. I desperately tried to keep the small smile stay on my lips, without growing too brave or too meek I gave a slight nod. We stared into each other's eyes so long I wasn't sure it was ever going to happen. Then he leaned in, pulling me to him ever-so-slightly by the hands. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed after watching his do the same. And very carefully he placed a light, sweet, chaste kiss upon my lips. I felt like my head was swimming in bliss for the few moments our lips came together. Then as soon as it began he pulled away. I slowly opened my eyes to see his sinking into mine—I gazed back and a smile found its way back onto my lips for the countless time this night.

"Thank you," he murmured and smiled. I simply gave a small nod and watched him silently grab his possessions and walk away. He glanced back once and then hurried off. As content as I ever recalled feeling I slowly moseyed up to find Esper and confide in her all about my evening.

o.O.o

During classes I had taken to sitting with Draco, except during Potions and Charms. Potions required too much concentration to be asked ridiculous questions: and Hermione, thankfully, never asked ridiculous questions, while Harry and Ron simply didn't ask any at all. Charms generally required partners, and there isn't really any excuse that I could use to explain why I sat with Harry; the simple truth was that I enjoyed being with Harry. It wasn't a simple truth—it was a complicated, mess of a relationship—but when we were together everything appeared to be so simple.

Every night that week had been a ritual: meeting up with Harry to be harassed by Toady, getting out late, sneaking up to Gryffindor Tower to acquire brooms and that ratty bit of parchment that, finally, led us out of the castle. Every night we started with flying. Harry didn't need to spend much time teaching me any particular thing. He simply showed me, and I caught on fairly quickly. I had a sneaking suspicion that my ability might be construed as cheating—but I didn't let that bother me. After an exhilarating hour of flying around, acting more and more ridiculous, we would lay quietly on the grass, holding hands and stealing chaste kisses beneath the moonlight. It felt so comforting to have his arm wrapped around my shoulder. In a world of unpredictability and violent turmoil, he seemed to tether me to some lasting shred of humanity and hope. It was pleasant and warm. I hardly found the warm so agreeable, but this warmth was so inviting. It was calming, rather than agitating. Every night after we finished cuddling beneath the glittering moonlight, Harry would escort me back to the dungeon and leave me with a chaste kiss. It was comforting. It wasn't pressuring or tempting or overwhelming. It was simply satisfying.

The next day, Friday, was Quidditch tryouts. Luckily I didn't have any classes to worry about, so when morning came around I smuggled a bagful of food from the Great Hall back up to the Common Room. I let Esper out of the room and she curled up with in front of one of the fires while we both nibbled at the collection of food that was lying on the table. I lazily turned pages of a Quidditch book that Harry let me borrow as I sipped some pumpkin juice I had smuggled into the common room. I had grown particularly fond of quiche since arriving at Hogwarts, so had Esper. She was curled up in my lap contentedly purring and munching on a slice of fruit. I had been feeding her, but I felt like I had neglected her that week. I had basically kept her trapped in the witch's dormitory since the fiasco with Umbridge on Monday. I spent so much time with Harry; returning only afterwards to confide it all in Esper. It may have seemed crazy—but she appeared as contented as I felt. I had drank a few times during the week—with reckless abandon—until I was so full I could do nothing but lay in bed and listen to Esper coo in her sleep. And even though I felt I had been neglecting her the entire week—she was more satisfied than ever. It made me happy that whatever connection I shared with her, she could benefit from my happiness as much as I benefitted from hers.

It was difficult to tell when the sun would come up, being in the dungeon, but eventually people began to file tiredly from the dormitories to the Great Hall. I was three-quarters of the way through the book before Draco made his way into the common room. He slumped into the couch near me and let his head fall back into the cushy material. He gave a wayward glance at the book I perused.

"Quidditch? So are you trying out today?" I pulled my gaze away from the page towards him.

"Something like that. You?"

"I'm on the team—but yes, I'll be trying out for my position again. Not that anyone will actually come to Slytherin try outs," he gave a small chuckle, "except for you I suppose."

"Yeah?" I allowed my eyes to fall back to the book and I continued reading through it.

"So do you know what position you are trying out for?"

I nibbled at my delicious oatmeal raisin cookie, "What position do you play?"

"Seeker, wh-."

"That's what I'm trying out for," I cut him off nonchalantly as I continued to nibble my cookie and turn the pages of the book. After he didn't respond for a minute I looked at him. He seemed somewhat awestruck. "Yes?"

"You're trying out for seeker?" he tried to laugh it off, "Have you ever even been on a broom?"

"Yeah," I said uninterestedly.

He scoffed, "When was the last time you've been on a broom?"

"Earlier today actually," I finished the cookie and leaned over to the table to pick up another, "thanks for asking."

"And when, exactly, was the first time you tried riding a broom?" He asked petulantly.

"Hmm…" I sipped my pumpkin juice, "Four days ago."

He almost gagged on the air he was breathing, and then he simply laughed. "And you're trying out for seeker, after only having flown four days ago?" He looked at me incredulously.

"Something like that."

o.O.o

Slytherin tryouts were short. I was the only one who had shown up for tryouts. It was quite barren in the huge Quidditch pitch. The oval shaped grass field was 500 feet long, and about 180 feet wide. At each end were three goal posts of varying heights. In the very center of the field was a circle approximately two feet in diameter. The Slytherin team lounged around, bored: as usual. Generally not needing to hold tryouts, it took the team a few minutes to come up with a plan. The group finally decided that to compare seeker abilities they would have us, what else, catch the snitch. The snitch was a walnut sized golden orb with silver pixie wings. It may have moved wickedly fast, but I never lost track of it. Draco and I mounted our brooms and waited 90 seconds before taking off after the snitch. At first they had decided that three rounds of snitch grabbing would be sufficient, but when I had managed to catch it all three times within 7 minutes, they decided to up the ante to 10. This only delayed the inevitable: revealing that Draco was a horrible seeker. _Nothing to do with the fact that I have practically cheaty-face powers._ I smirked a bit at Draco's crestfallen look.

"You've never even…" he seemed to be taking defeat well, if not wholly graciously.

"Ten for ten in under half an hour has got to be a record, right?" Everyone else on the team seemed absolutely ecstatic by their new found player. Part of me was slightly saddened knowing that I wouldn't be playing alongside Draco—but a humbling experience was a humbling experience. If he wanted something, he could earn it.

"You don't even have a broom," Draco pleaded. _Grabbing at straws now. _"There's no way you'll be able to keep up with a firebolt on one of those."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't worry—we can cuddle by the fire and pick one out together." That garnered a few laughs and Draco seemed to be wholly defeated.


	18. 18: The Invitation

Unhallowed

Part 18

The next weeks passed unremarkably. I managed most of my reading and homework in the evenings while everyone else slept. Harry and I had spent no time together further since the evenings when he taught me to fly. Time seemed to pass so quickly while at Hogwarts, and as September ended the first Hogsmeade trip was announced. I had been drinking every week since the Lake incident, but no bloodlust had crept up into my mind more so than usual. I had spent the last five years of my life distancing myself from people, and staying in the crowded castle tested my self-control. I knew that the partial drowning of myself was only going to last a few months. It was enough that it sent my system into shock, but it wasn't a definitive cure for anything. I had a few near death experiences before—against my will, but those taught me how to really reign in my thirst, at least for a limited amount of time. Drowning myself wasn't a pleasant thought—but it was more pleasant than the thought of mercilessly tearing out the throats of several people around me.

I had received a letter from Remus the other morning at breakfast. It was brief, but it confirmed my suspicion. Toady was poking her head around and trying to find out more than she had a right to. As Remus had put it, she wanted to know "what ailed me." She was using her influence with the Ministry to poke her toady head in everywhere it seemed. _It won't be long before she'll figure out that I've been routinely turning her horrid plates into much more utilitarian quills._ I smirked a bit. I had managed to attain quite the collection of quills.

October 5th, tomorrow, was the first scheduled trip to Hogsmeade. I needed to get something more to drink, and probably buy a few things to entertain Esper, who had been rather forgiving of my abrupt abandonment of her in the dormitory. Although I allowed her to roam the Slytherin dungeon as she pleased, I was wary of taking her beyond that. I had an inkling that Severus was very stringent about keeping Toady away from where she didn't belong, but I had this unnerving feeling that she was watching everywhere else. I had spoken with Hermione about it, and she seemed distant. In fact a slow realization began to creep over me. The last few weeks that I had been devoting to school, I had not really spent any extra time with Hermione or anyone else from Gryffindor. I needed to order a broom for the first Quidditch match, but that wasn't scheduled until early November, so I kept putting it off. I didn't want to have to sift through brooms on my own, so I was hoping I would be able to corner Ginny about that.

I occasionally bantered with Draco, but he seemed despondent about my taking his place on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Occasionally we would walk across the grounds together silently. The more we talked, the more it became painfully obvious how different we were. He had no empathy for other's problems, he would often belittle and attack people, and the most worrisome was that I always sensed he was masking his words and intentions when he was around me. At first I had accosted him about it, but it only caused him to further seize up. I tried not to care. Draco was a bully. It wasn't my job to change him, and I began to ignore his behavior. _I have enough problems to sort out—and you're not nearly as cute as my Esper to waste my time with your shenanigans. _

It was Friday evening and I had spent the afternoon entertaining Esper. She was bouncing around the witchs' commons quite jovially. She would run about in circles, then claw her way up a tapestry, launch herself off, and then bat her heavy wings until she was back on the ground. Part of me wondered if anyone really minded, but the thing about the Slytherin common room is that it was always horribly empty…_or wonderfully empty_. A small smile crept onto my face.

I decided that if there was anything in particular I was to buy tomorrow I could either figure it out when I get there, or I could plan ahead. _Planning…because you'll never avoid doing it_. I scrunched my face up and let out a sigh. Glancing back at Esper I decided that I would head over to the Gryffindor common room to figure out what kind of broomstick I would order. Hermione seemed well-versed in just about everything so perhaps I would ask her. This would also be great news to tell everyone that I had made seeker—I don't know why, some of them probably knew. _But in the spirit of narcissism I shall take it upon myself to let them all know_. I scooped up Esper and tucked under my cloak. She painfully clawed her way up to perch on my shoulder. _Lucky she's so small, or I'd look like a hunchback….and now I'm making fun of other people who have no control over their condition._ I contemplated it for a moment longer before deciding it was all completely ridiculous anyway and began my long ascent to the Gryffindor Common Room.

In front of the silken-clad "Fat-Lady," as she was commonly known, I stared bemused and annoyed.

"I told you the password, it's parsnips," I said for the thousandth time, as bored as I could muster.

"You're not a member of this house," she said resolutely.

"Neither are Professors, but—,"

"Are you a professor?" She chimed. Sighing, I ran my fingers absentmindedly through my hair. I could just pass out here until someone let me in, or I could get in on my own.

"If all I need is a password to get in, and you don't want me to get in, why don't you just change the password?" I asked lazily.

"You are a clever one," she said happily at this, "The new password is 'luciferous.'"

I let out an agitated sigh, "Why would you possibly tell me that?"

"Because," she drawled in that high pitched tone, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I have to announce the password in front of a student, upon changing it, that way it's known."

I wanted to bash my head against the wall. That was the most absurd thing I had ever heard…as if she couldn't tell them later. _Now she's just trying to get you upset_. But how could I be upset? This was the most ridiculous I've had yet. _Arguing with a fat lady clad in pink silk, who is A PICTURE over parsnips and luciferousness_. I drew my hand up to my shoulder and gave Esper a pat through my cloak.

"How about I show you the cutest thing in existence, password included, and you show me the opening to the Gryffindor common room?"  
>She arched her eyebrow quizzically. I slipped Esper out from my cloak and held her, with her bottom legs hanging, facing the Fat Lady. "Luciferous." Esper hung there, then blearily opened her eyes and cooed. <em>Oh yes—cute as possible<em>.

"I—that-," the Fat lady stumbled over her words. She straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat and swung the portrait open. _Finally._ I kissed the top of Esper's head and tucked her under my arm as I made my way into the Gryffindor common room.

It was so warm and airy—a nice change to the dungeons. It was also much more crowded than the Slytherin's dungeon, but probably because it was reasonably smaller. I scanned the room and while I did not see Harry, Ron, Ginny, or Hermione I did see two tufts of red hair: the twins. They were sitting on two overstuffed chairs talking heatedly over a small oaken box. I plopped down next to them. Immediately they stopped and glanced over.

"Well what a wonderful surprise," one said a matter-of-factly. _One,_ I thought humorously.

"Did you have to use some dark magic to get your way in here?" two asked.

"Just had to charm the Fat Lady," I replied nonchalantly. They both snorted.

"Oh thank heavens," one said.

"She was dreadful," finished two.

"Now what can we do for you?" They completed in unison.

"Well before we continue," I pulled out Esper and she began to bound around the overstuffed chairs, "I require names."

"Names?"

"Whose?"

"We've got names,"

"All the names you'd ever need."  
>I sighed, "Stop," I looked between the two who became abruptly silent, "I need your names, or rather, a way to tell you apart."<p>

They both grinned, "We're Fred."

"And George."

I groaned. Esper bounded across the back of the chair and collided with Fred or George's head, "That's what you get." I mumbled.

The other laughed at his slightly dazed twin.

"Anyway what I really need is—,"

"Help with homework?"

"Or Class?"

"Or getting out of class?" They asked simultaneously…

"Forget it—I'll be going," I got up and lazily walked up what, I was assuming, was the girls staircase. Esper trotted along beside my feet. Unlike the Slytherin dormitory, all the girls shared a very large room, and none of the doors were locked. I moseyed inside and received a few shocked looks from witches in various stages of being asleep and being clothed. The floor in this dormitory was carpeted and the four poster beds were just as giant. The only real difference was the colors that adorned the room, the number of beds in the room, and the fantastically ornate window on the end wall. I noticed a single four-poster bed that was surrounded by piles of books, overwhelming a large number were Potions books. I then noticed a few pictures on the bed-side table that revealed it was Hermione's space. I sat on her bed and sifted through the small hill of books that were cluttered around the foot of the bed. There seemed to be a theme to her piles, the most interesting of which was undetectable communication. This pile contained books about Portkeys and portraits, Floo Powder and Pixies. I grabbed one book, leaned back in the bed and turned the pages noiselessly. I was distracted though, by the squeals that Esper was eliciting from the various witches around the room.

"Oh my, she is so cute!"

"Simply precious!"  
>"And she is so soft! How is it possible for it to be so soft?"<p>

They squealed, and Esper seemed to soak up the attention; she deserved it after being locked in the dungeon for a few weeks. I allowed the reading to consume me. The sunlight that glittered through the window began to wane. The lamps that lined the walls magically clicked to life and filled the dormitory with a warm glow. I glanced around; the scarlet and gold glittered lazily as the flame scintillated off the wall and tapestries. Just as I was finished one book: replacing it to grab another, Hermione entered. She hastily walked toward her bed and began rooting through the books without even noticing me lying on her bed.

"Why, hello there," I tried not to laugh. Her head darted up in shock and her eyes were large as saucers.

"Are you-," she began incredulously, "Are you lying in my bed?"

I glanced around, hopped out of bed, and then shook my head, "Absolutely not."

"But you—how—how did you get in here?" She flustered about.

"I do believe that the copious time spent with Ronald has taken its toll on your eloquence," I smirked and then straightened my cloak, "And before you ask again, I just used the password."

If she could have become more flustered, she did, "But how could you possibly know the password? She just changed it to—,"

"Luciferous?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

"How do—," she took an agitated breath and then groaned. Frustrated, she kicked a pile of books closest to her and volumes of Potions manuals cascaded to the floor.

"You seem rather interested in Potions," I remarked. She hurriedly began restacking the books.

"No thanks to you," she said gruffly. I simply arched an eyebrow. She glanced at me, "I don't know how you do it every week, but you DON'T follow the directions, you DON'T use the proper ingredients, and yet you ALWAYS manage to master the potion," her words were pierced with annoyance.

"Well that sounds like your extra studying is every thanks to me."

She ignored the statement and finished piling her books up, "Is there something you came here for?"

"To talk to you."

"Well?" We stared at each other for a moment.

"I just haven't spoken with you in a while, and was wondering how you were doing and all that. Oh…and I needed help picking out a new broomstick. Would you kindly assist me this evening?" I asked

She grimaced slightly, "I probably wouldn't be any good at helping you pick one out. Harry has a Firebolt—that's a league competitive broom, but they cost a fortune. But I don't really know much else, Ginny or Harry…or anyone really—would know much more about it."

"Not interested in Quidditch?"

"Not particularly, it's rather barbaric," she said matter of fact, "So why exactly do you need a broom?"

o.O.o

Back in the common room I found myself seated with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The room was positively bustling and was, arguably, over-crowded. I understood why the Slytherin dungeon was so spacious. If 100 Slytherins had to be this close to each other, they'd all kill each other in a single evening; all that considered, the Gryffindor house seemed to handle the coziness rather well.

"You made the team?" Ron asked dumbfounded for the 50th time. I simply nodded.

"You shouldn't be so surprised Ron, you made the team too—well…a team, not the Slytherin team, but—well you know what I mean," Hermione pitched in. I noticed Harry shoot a suspicious glance towards Hermione, but it was gone in a moment. She fidgeted nervously.

"Anyways, I need a broom," I continued.

"And you made Seeker. I mean, Malfoy is a git—but you? You've never even been on a broom." Ron continued.

I smirked a bit, thinking about sneaking out with Harry. I missed that closeness. I wanted to snake my fingers around his and curl up against him, but I knew I wouldn't, at least not with people around. Part of my brain got caught up thinking about curling up to Harry, as if he could protect me, but he couldn't. I had to protect him from me. I wasn't the vulnerable one, he was. Vulnerability wasn't alluring, nor was it a character trait I wanted to cultivate. That small part of my brain faltered for a moment wondering how I would have an intimate relationship with anyone if I couldn't let myself be vulnerable.

I shook my head, "Anyways," I drawled a bit louder, "I need a broom." I had probably repeated this statement to interrupt Ron at least five times.

"Well how much are you willing to spend?" Harry asked.

"What's good," I replied.

"Well I have a Firebolt…but it's a small mountain of gold," Harry continued.

"Yeah?" I thought about the countless heaps of gold, jewels, and treasures that lined my vault. _A fast broom is surely something that I'll have forever though_. I let out a small chuckle. _I can justify anything it seems. _"Where do I order one?"

Hermione allowed her jaw to droop open, "Just like that?" she chastised, "Is there any end to your extravagance?"

I considered the question for a moment; perhaps the short month that I had been in Slytherin was already affecting me. I had spent a small fortune on Esper—_but who wouldn't?_ "Probably," I answered noncommittally. Hermione gave out a small huff.

"Well they did have one on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley," Harry added.

I nodded, "Alright…so how do I withdraw and mail a 'small mountain of gold?'" I asked. Everyone was silenced. _Great…I don't…_

Hermione stood up and stalked away, somewhat randomly, and Ron was still dumbfounded. I leaned back a bit and glanced at Harry. "Going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

He nodded, "Yeah, but…um…I have plans…" I simply nodded. "Perhaps, though, if you wanted, you could come with?" I continued nodding.

"Perhaps," I let out a breath and mulled it over, "So do you think they'll let Esper into Hogsmeade?" She had curled into a ball at the foot of the fire and was purring contentedly.

"Doubtful," he said with a small frown on his face. I looked back over at him. Night had completely blanketed the grounds in darkness, but inside the lamps lit the common room with a warm magic. The flames created a warm glow that danced across his skin. His hair was just as messy as usual.

"Oh well, they'll never know," I continued. He gave a smile and stared at Esper. I thought about if just he and I went to Hogsmeade tomorrow—it didn't really lead me anywhere, because I had only seen the city at night. I figured that even if none of our school mates were there, we still probably wouldn't be close to each other. We never even talked about it—being close in public. I could hardly think of it as flirting. It was holding hands, being close, being happy. It just seemed soothing—not giddy and nerve wracking.

"So is there anything in particular I should visit when I go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" I asked.

He looked back at me with a smile on his face, "I could show you," he stated warmly. I simply nodded. Even if everyone else was there, and I had to fight the urge to ruffle his hair or sneak my fingers around his, just talking with him would be nice.

"Yeah, sure—sounds brilliant," I concluded. I glanced at Esper and noted how cozy she seemed by the warm fire. I wanted to be cozy. Curled up into the overstuffed cushions, my skin lightly brushing against Harry's. I let out a breath and cleared my head. _Let's wait till Christmas till we have to drown ourselves again, shall we?_ I recalled the chilling sludge and immediately pushed the intimate thoughts away.

"Alright then, well I'll see you in the morning. We'll wait for you outside."

Even with the realistic part of me wanting to squash away the blooming buds of hope that sprinkled my conscious, I simply indulged myself and allowed hope to blossom. Then Hermione's words rang through my ears, _Is there any end to your extravagance?_ I smirked to myself. _Not this weekend. _


End file.
